


Hunting the Stars

by Anubis_2701



Series: Hunting the Stars [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Backstory, Blood and Violence, Bounty Hunters, Elemental Magic, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Foreshadowing, Graphic Description, I am making that a tag, Implied Sexual Content, Implied and Explicit Pedophilia, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, LGBTQ Themes, Light Sadism, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Multiple Pairings, Mutilation, Off-World, POV Multiple, Planets, Resistance, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Space Opera, Space Pirates, Telekinesis, War, fast burn, in some cases, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 38
Words: 202,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8766760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anubis_2701/pseuds/Anubis_2701
Summary: Matthias and his crew of bounty hunters are some of the best in the Galaxy, able to catch anyone or anything; Tori is a scavenger on a desert planet wishing she was anywhere else; Lukas and his sister are running out of time to save their planet; Lovino and Feliciano are trying to find the illustrious rebels; and Matthew is a resistance fighter trying to keep all of his friends alive.Nothing is certain, but one thing is true; the Universe is a dangerous place, no matter who you are.





	1. The Many Worlds Between Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sci-fi, so y'all should know what to expect.
> 
> Information about the tags:  
> \- The 'rape/non-con' tag which I added is applicable only for one chapter near the end. The scene itself is not overtly graphic, but I thought I would be safe anyway.
> 
> NAMES (These are any non-canon ones):  
> \- Tori: Female Lithuania  
> \- Louise: Female Germany  
> \- Emilia: Female Iceland  
> \- Abel: Netherlands  
> \- Bella: Belgium  
> \- Carlotta: Female Cuba

_Block 41, Room 9_   
_Krios District, Reycass  
5th Janwir_

Matthias grinned as he flicked through the notes – their most recent payday. His teammates all shared lazy grins. The group had been working together for a while now – some had known each other years, though they did have a few newer members. They had grown accustomed to working together, and always shared the money out equally, no matter a member’s age or needs. They all put in equal effort, so they all got equal compensation. Matthias glanced up at their client, nodded in confirmation that there was enough, and then showed him to the door.

“So, you think we’ll be able to get that droid with that cash?” Gilbert asked from where he was slumped on one of the couches. Berwald, who had counted the money over Matthias’ shoulder, nodded wordlessly at him.

Matthias Kohler, Berwald Oxenstierna, Gilbert Beilschmidt – and his younger sister Louise – Feliks Lukasiewicz, Alfred F. Jones, Antonio Carriedo, Francis Bonnefoy and Ivan Braginsky. Together they formed one of the most brutally efficient and infamous groups of bounty hunters on the streets of the Union. They weren’t known by any particular name, but everyone knew _of_ them. They were nearly unstoppable, able to find people long believed to have died or been killed. No-one had escaped their clutches as of yet, and Matthias – as the group’s leader – intended to keep their record perfect.

The group lived together, too, so most costs they shared between them. Their most recent savings project: a TR5 droid. It was one of a kind, and they were trying to gather enough money to pay for it before it could be purchased by someone else.

Alfred grinned, sitting up as he pumped his fist in the air.

“Hell yeah! TR5 here we come!” Francis rolled his eyes at Alfred’s immaturity, muttering about how he should be less childish. Nothing any of them said would ever work, though. The nine of them were all different ages. Feliks and Louise were among the youngest – all being 19 years old – Alfred was 20, Gilbert, Francis and Antonio were 21, Ivan and Matthias 22 and Berwald 23 – which made the intimidating man the eldest. However, it wasn’t about age in this business, but rather experience and skill. It was for this reason that Matthias was the leader, having been honing his skills since he was 7, and actually hunting people since the tender age of 11. He’d practically grown up a bounty hunter, which was what made him one of the most skilled.

Feliks was the same. The boy could fool you into thinking he was ditsy and stupid when in reality, his mind was something to marvel at. He understood human nature, having been driven to the depths of depravity when he was younger, and had been forced to live on the dangerous, criminally ripe streets of the Krios District. Among others, he acted ridiculously fruity and exuberant, but when with his closest friends, he was himself. That is – intelligent, witty and sly. It was for these reasons that Feliks was Matthias’ second-in-command.

Matthias turned to stare out the window. Reycass was a heavily urbanised planet, with little of its natural environment left. However, it’s natives, the Anval, seemed to prefer it this way. Matthias could understand why. Reycass was a very dreary planet, with constantly overcast skies, cold weather, few flowers and a substantial lack of beauty. Since it had become urbanised, however, it had transformed into a bustling city-system and centre for trade and employment. It wasn’t a bad place to live, and the Krios District (though no-one wanted to admit it) was filled with bounty hunters, black market traders and other undesirables. This might be a place to avoid for some people, but for those undesirables, it was a hive of activity.

Matthias grinned at Alfred.

“Mmhmm, TR5 is soon to be ours!”

* * *

_Mauriti Settlement,_   
_Vyls Desert, Aralos  
6th Janwir_

Tori cursed, turning the pitiful stack of notes over in her hands. She knew that what she had salvaged had been worth more than this, but Reyka, the merchant to whom she sold, seemed determined to rip her off every opportunity he got. She’d spent all day out in the desert rummaging through the remains of a recent fighter droid that had crashed a few hundred kilometres from Mauriti. After hearing about it from a straggler, she’d rushed to the site, removing as many parts as she could, stripping the whole thing of any valuable pieces. Selling to Reyka was always risky, but this time it hadn’t been worth it. The Garvich had robbed her, once again. Tori genuinely wasn’t sure why she even tried anymore.

She was one of only a few humans here, and the only one from Daerna, that was for sure. She wished she could leave this damned planet, but she felt a strange attachment to it. She’d lived here since she had crash-landed when she was 8, and as rough as living on the desert planet was, she had grown used to the weather and the way of life around here. Aralos was a rather lawless planet, though, filled with criminals, castaways and countless seedy figures.  She was sure she’d much prefer to be back on Daerna, her native planet. She was born there, and still remembered the green forests, inland seas and snowy mountain ridges. The air had been clean and the people friendly.

Of course, Daerna was in the middle of a war right now. Over ten years ago, the despotic group of planets and totalitarian governments known collectively as the Union had annexed the planet, for reasons which had never ever been completely clear. Their annexation was known as the Expansion, and since then, rebel vigilantes had risen up against their oppressors. Tori had been made to flee the planet during the Expansion, like numerous other children and teenagers. The hope had been that those who remained free could stay well out of the Union’s way and keep the Daernic culture alive. Things hadn’t worked out for Tori, though. Her parents had been killed in the invasion, and the man she’d been travelling with, who she used to think was her older brother, had died when their craft crashed. Left penniless and homeless, she’d made a life for herself in Mauriti.

Sighing, Tori stood, reflexively brushing dust off her garb. She wore leggings, a long-sleeved tunic, lace-up boots and desert robes – all in pale colours that helped her blend in with the sand. Her hair, however – long, wavy and dark brown – sometimes gave her away, though, which is why she often wore a scarf wrapped around her head and mouth to conceal it. Tori always tried to attract as little attention as she could. She was already stared at in Mauriti for her green eyes, odd as they were due to the ring of gold around her pupils. Better not add her unusually dark hair yet pale skin to a list of reasons to gawk at her. Most of the time, humans with dark hair usually had dark skin to accompany it. Nyma, a planet in the Rychtor System, was known for it’s native darker skinned humans. Tori could always have bleached her hair, but it wouldn’t have lasted long, and then people would just have assumed her to be from Fynkn instead of Daerna. Fynkn was known for it’s pale skinned, white or silver-haired and blue-eyed native humans. And people from Fynkn were rarer here than Daernics.

Tori could only dream of escaping this damned place, getting somewhere better. She was only 18 – soon to be 19 – and she had her whole life ahead of her, but she already felt like she was standing in front of a barrier. Like she would never be more, never experience more than the barren landscape of Aralos. As much as she might hope, there weren’t a lot of ways to get off the planet. And even if she did, what would she do then? Go back to Daerna? It was in the middle of a war, and she had no living relatives that she knew of.

_Face it, Aralos is your only future._

* * *

_Rykkné Plains,_   
_Aralos,  
6th Janwir_

Lukas uttered a low growl as their bags once again slipped from their positions hanging either side of his saddle. Lia didn’t even bother to tell him to cool it this time. Obviously, she could either understand her older brother’s frustration, or she couldn’t be bothered. Knowing Lia, it was the latter. Lukas was just so sick of having to shift them. Normally he was a very calm and collected person, he’d even been accused of being emotionless more than once. Which was ridiculous. Lukas had plenty of emotion. He just chose not to share it with others.

Plus, the two had been travelling through the Rykkné Plains for close to a week, and Lukas wasn’t sure if they’d left them or not. Aralos, in general, was a confusing planet and trying to navigate it was near impossible. Glancing over at his sister, Lukas wasn’t surprised to see Lia fiddling with an expensive-looking watch. She’d probably stolen it. Most of the things his sister had were stolen. Of course, Lukas had no problems with this, as he was the one who taught Lia to steal in the first place. Times were tough, and people had to survive by any means. Neither of the siblings cared for the people they robbed. Lia was usually the one to do it, though, as her older brother was a mechanic, and could get good money from fixing machines and the like. They only really fully relied on theft when it was absolutely necessary. Yes, the two were unsympathetic, but they weren’t completely heartless.

Lia kicked at her mount, which had begun to slow down. Her elder brother shot her a look.

“Don’t kick the poor beast. It’s carried you all the way through the Plains, hasn’t it? We need to rest them anyway.”

Muttering her dissent, Lia pulled sharply on the reins and swung down from its back, quickly tethering it to a lone, warped root protruding from the ground so it wouldn’t wander away.

The pair were silent as they unpacked a few things to be more comfortable. Lia wanted to go on about how the Plains couldn’t possibly go on much longer, but she simply couldn’t say the words. Try as she might to be confident and uncaring, she still possessed a deep-seated fear that nothing they did would be worth it. That they would be unable to help the Galaxy. She would never say this to Lukas, though. The boy spent enough time going on about how they were lucky to be alive, that caution was the main focus here and that Lia needed to hold her head high and act like the woman she was born to be.

But Lia wasn’t a woman. She didn’t feel like one. She was only 15. Lukas was 18, it was easy for him to tell her to act like an adult.  As she thought it, her brother looked her way, muttering something under his breath in Fynknian before raising his head.

“Lia. Look up.”

Lia blinked before obeyed the evident command in her brother’s voice.

“One of those bright lights up there is Fynkn. Our _home_. Our _planet_. Our _righ_ _t_. Are you going to let it slip away? Let the Union keep our people hostage and annex our cultures?”

“Fynkn is your planet. You’re the heir, not me.”

“Lia.” Lukas grabbed his sister’s hand, gazing at her with the same emotionless, slightly unnerving expression as usual. “It is _ours_. It is the Bondevik’s.”

“I know, but – “. Lukas cut her off.

“It is meant to be ours, and one day, it will be ours. Giving up will not make that happen. Who will fight the enemy if no one is willing to pick up a weapon? Who is willing to sacrifice if no one wants to give anything up? And how will we reclaim our home if we are not even willing to try? Lia, even if we die, we will have _tried,_ at the least. We stay concealed, we get to the Resistance. And we _try_.”

Lia met Lukas’ eyes.

“Why, though?”

Lukas softened, sadness taking over his features.

“Because, Lia, it is the only thing we can still do.”

* * *

_City of Akrim_   
_Incanda,  
7th Janwir_

Lovino ducked under the coils of wire stretched out over the top of the ledge, weaving through large boxes and freight containers and past discarded blasters and other broken machinery. Wriggling through a narrow gap between two stacks of old droid parts, he finally got through to the small alcove in the wall. Upon seeing that his younger brother was asleep, he couldn’t help but scowl. Not bothering to wake him gently – instead choosing to roughly kick him in the side – Lovino moved back a little as Feliciano jumped awake.

“Ow! That hurt, Lovi!”

Lovino growled.

“Whatever. And remember, you’re not meant to call me Lovino, idiot! It’s Luciano now! And remember, you’re Adriano. There are all sorts of criminals and other weirdos around here. it’s not smart to give them your real name, dumbass.”

Feliciano nodded guiltily. It was that moment he noticed the darkening bruises on his older brother’s face. His eyes widened, and he rushed over to look at them. Lovino protested when Feliciano gently took his face in his hands but relented after Feli started to gently press a wet cloth to it. As much as he hated being coddled, Lovino couldn’t deny how good it felt on his throbbing face.

“You shouldn’t do it. I know it makes good money, but you get hurt so often.” Feli muttered.

Lovino rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but…” he pulled a roll of notes from his pocket and waved them in front of his brother’s face. His eyes widened. It was a lot of money. Feliciano bit his lip and continued to clean his brother’s face up.

“Still…”

Lovino shook his head.

“It’s fist-fighting, not bounty hunting. I’m not going to get mortally wounded. Besides, the bastards that call themselves fighters are so weak it’s pathetic. I can easily beat them. And again.” He waved the money again for emphasis. His younger brother shook his head slightly, sighing.

“Feli, the Universe is a dangerous place, all right? I'm not dying over here, you can’t worry about me getting a few bruises and scrapes.”

Feliciano sighed.

“I know, but still. I feel so useless. You always put me first. You never give yourself an opportunity to be selfish. I don’t know how you do it.”

Lovino blinked, surprised.

“I remember what it feels like to live on the streets. I don't want that to happen again. And you’re my little brother. It’s in my nature to be protective.”

He turned away slightly. “Anyway, pack up your things. We’re headed to Herr Sector. We have enough money for bribing this time around. Might have to cut our food consumption down a bit, though.”

Within minutes the alcove was clear, no sign left that anyone had ever been there.

The two brothers moved silently, toward the docking bay, and hopefully onward to Herr Sector.

* * *

_Fleet 42 Docking Bay_   
_Resistance Headquarters, Nyma  
8th Janwir_

Matthew pulled the helmet off his head, blinking slightly. He gave Abel a lopsided grin. Piloting was something his tall friend excelled at. It wasn’t Matthew’s forte, personally, but he enjoyed it.

Shaking his head slightly at how easy he adapted from ship to ground, he passed the helmet back.

“I’m still impressed. How you manage to do that so easily…amazing.”

Abel gave him a rare, cocky smile.

“They do call me one of the best pilots in Nyma, you know.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “Like hell they do. You’re good, but you’re not _that_ good.”

Abel put on a fake pout.

“Oh, why don’t you ever let me rejoice I my own talents? You are such a cruel creature.”

“Because, if I didn’t bring you down a few levels, you’d be the most conceited person in the Galaxy.”

Abel cocked his head to the side, then gave him an ‘innocent’ smile.

Laughing at his friend’s antics, Matthew pulled the suit off, glad to pull his own clothes back on. The pilot suits might have been better suited for the machines, they were quite uncomfortable.

He and Abel had known each other for years. When Matthew was 10, he’d been separated from his family after intense riots in their district. Abel, only three years older than him, had found him and taken care of him until they were both taken in by the Resistance and trained to fight the Union. Matthew was now 21, Abel 24, meaning that the pair had known one another for twelve years, which was longer than Matthew had known his own parents and brother. He would find it depressing, but he honestly felt more attached to his friends in the Resistance than he did the faltering memories of his family. He did miss his home planet Rywan every now and then, but he easily got over it. He still remembered as a young child, and his first years in the Resistance, he’d been almost invisible because of how quiet and timid he was. Over time, though, he came out of his shell, became more confident. Many people in the Resistance knew his name now, and he’d made some of the best friends in the Galaxy.

“So, how’d you go?” he heard a familiar voice shout. Grinning, he turned to Carlotta Machado, a pretty Nymian girl who had become one of said friends. She was, as usual, wearing a black midriff shirt, faded blue pants and boots, with her frizzy black hair pulled into a high ponytail.

“He actually didn’t do that badly, for a trainee,” Abel said from over his shoulder. Carlotta’s eyes widened.

“Trainee?” she grinned, before punching him in the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you were training to be a pilot? That’s awesome Mattie!”

He grinned, though rubbed the spot where she’d punched him. He quickly dismissed her claims that he’d be an amazing pilot, and began walking with the two back to the barracks.

“So, how’s Bella? Her stomach better yet?” Matthew asked. Bella, Abel’s younger sister by 5 years, had been slashed in the stomach by shrapnel during an explosion on Daerna.

Carlotta nodded. “Yeah, she’s a lot better. She’d even back to complaining about the lack of chocolate here.”

Abel waved his hand. “She’ll be fine.”

The trio snickered among themselves about that. Bella harboured an intense passion for chocolate and didn’t try to conceal it. She was often going on about how it should be illegal for Resistance bases to stock no chocolate. It was a joke in their squad that if Bella was able to complain about the chocolate situation, she would be completely fine. It was quite true, though, which made the whole situation funnier.

“Oh, we’ve got a reconnaissance mission soon, just thought I’d warn you,” Carlotta said.

“Really? Where?”

“Aralos. There’ll be a Union fighter refuelling there. We need to get on board that ship while we can.”

“What in the worlds would the Union and its minions want with a planet like Aralos? That place is a bit of a dump, isn’t it?”

Carlotta nodded. “Yeah, but not like we have a choice, right?”

The other two nodded.

_Aralos,_ Matthew thought, _that should be interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 16/7/18: Added dates, fixed continuity + grammar/spelling errors. I made sure to remove the stupider details that a younger me forgot about and never tied into the story again.  
> Details about the Expansion during Tori's section, as well as removed the old name for the Union. Details about certain ethnicities were also added. I've also fixed my weird formatting for the place + date sections at the start. I used to have a weird, 4-line thing going on??? It's now back to the normal 3. I might also remove my old notes at the start.  
> My old writing is making me cringe. 2016 me, what were you doing?


	2. The Trials That Divide Us

_Tainish Markets,_  
_Krios District, Reycass_  
 _9 th Janwir_

Matthias swung around, triumphant, to the others, all of whom – exempting Berwald – had smiles on their face. Even Louise, who usually didn’t smile a great deal, had a small one on her face. And of course they were smiling. TR5 was finally theirs. They’d just beat an Anvali to it and said creature was now huffing in anger away from the bounty hunters.

The droid made a squeaking noise. Alfred could understand most droids, but this one spoke a little differently than others he had heard. It might take him a while to get used to it, but he could decipher its communication well enough. He had always loved droids. Some could be quite eccentric, and they were often entertaining. Gilbert had insisted that they upload expletives to the droid’s database, an idea that Alfred – as the only person who could properly understand the droid – had eagerly supported. Louise had told them to not be so immature, but the pair had just shot her down, as usual, already discussing how they would hook up the cables. Feliks rolled his eyes at them. Matthias wished that he was able to feel truly angry at those two. But after what they’d been through, he just couldn’t.

Gilbert had been only 5 years old when his parents were murdered on the planet of Incanda. Louise had been only 3 years old at the time, and Gilbert had been forced to take on responsibility years and years ahead of him. He’d managed to garner sympathy from a kind pilot, who flew the pair to Rywan. They’d spent several years there, and, when Gilbert was 11, he and the then 9-year-old Louise had stowed away on a ship bound for Nyma. However, the crew had discovered them mid-flight and left them on the nearest planet, which had been the beautiful but horribly dangerous and war-torn Syhvva. The siblings had escaped after selling some things they’d stolen and gotten onto a ship to Reycass. They’d been 13 and 11 by that time and decided to make a living on the urban planet. Matthias had met them when he was 16 – he’d already been in the bounty hunting business by then – and had offered them jobs working with him. They’d accepted, and been part of his little crew in the four years since.

Alfred, however, had suffered differently. His parents were still alive, but they’d abandoned him on Rywan. As if this wasn’t bad enough, Alfred had told him that he’d had a brother – older than him by a year – who he’d lost not even a year before that, in a series of raids and riots in their area. Matthias had found this out after noticing that Alfred got increasing quiet and reserved around the beginning of Juillat, the seventh month of the year. He’d narrowed it down mostly to the first of said month. This had struck him as odd, as Alfred’s birthday was on the fourth of the same month. As it turned out, the first of Juillat had been his older brother’s birthday, and every year he was similarly lacklustre. He’d been only nine when it happened, but he seemed to miss his brother terribly.

It was for these reasons that, no matter how hard he tried or no matter how badly they fucked up, Matthias was never truly angry at them. They’d had much harder lives than he had, and they didn’t need any more extra emotional baggage. The pair got on quite well, though their similar personalities could clash quite spectacularly. They really were fantastic at what they did, though. Matthias knew that he would’ve been caught in a few tough situations if not for those two. He really did owe them a lot.

Grinning as he watched TR5 speed after Alfred and Gilbert, Matthias pulled out his Cell. Glancing through the Index, he sighed, once again seeing the same five entries at the top. The Index was sorted by bounty in its default mode, something that Matthias had never bothered to change. And these five had a massive bounty on each of their heads. Some had smaller ones, others – three in particular – had gargantuan amounts by their names. The five at the top were all royalty. Three, however, were heirs to respective thrones, which was why they had higher bounties. Matthias’ crew had dabbled in searching for the different figures for a time, to humour their ever-present positions at the top of the Index, but never truly tried. Most of them were probably dead by now, anyway. The annexation of the three Free Courts of Daerna, Syhvva and Fynkn had occurred a decade ago, and the peoples of each planet were not permitted to leave, with any expatriates rounded up and deported back, so it had been about a decade since anyone had seen hair nor hide of the three races.

It was a bit of a pity, seeing as the native humans of each planet had distinctive looks. The Daernic were known for fair skin, dark, normally brown, hair and green eyes which had pupils ringed in gold. The Fynknian were known for their pale hair, which was normally either white, silver or grey, pale skin and dark – usually blue – eyes. Finally, the Syhvvanian peoples possessed vibrant, heat-coloured eyes and hair ranging between light copper to deep burgundy – that is to say, in any and all shades of red. They were far more interesting, anyway than Rywanese people. Rywanese humans all had the same; blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Matthias was of Rywanese ethnicity, and couldn’t help but wish he was from somewhere more interesting, like Pyndaph or Metteoa. Rywan was a nice planet, of course, and it was the only planet in the universe that, technically speaking, had a large array of different environmental biomes in it. Rywan was interesting to people who weren’t from Rywan. Due to the volatility of some of the environments, though, most people lived around the equator – the warmest part of a planet that was still generally cold.

Hell, the ‘lots of biomes’ thing was the only unique feature the planet had. It felt like every other planet was more interesting. In Dryx, for example, the people lived deep underground because of the surface temperatures, which were sub-arctic at the northern and southern poles, or hot as the sun everywhere else.

Anyway, it wasn’t his place to argue it, or even be thinking about it. They had work to do. Glancing down at the Index again, he gave thought to the first entries. Catching any of them would provide them with enough funds to retire permanently. They wouldn’t, of course, because this profession had made the lot of them into greedy bastards, but it would be nice to have a lot of savings. They could buy a better apartment, for one. And it would cost a lot extra to maintain their new droid. Matthias tried to dismiss the idea that bloomed in his mind. It wouldn’t work, and could possibly cost them more than they would earn…

But if it succeeded…

Matthias ran after the others, deciding to wait until they were back at the apartment to speak his idea.

* * *

The silence in the room felt louder than a bomb blast. Feliks and Berwald were staring at him, Louise, Gilbert, Francis and Antonio had fallen silent, Alfred was openly gaping at him, and Ivan was just smiling at him.

“So, let me get this right,” Alfred began, “you want us to travel through the eight Systems, to find the top five?!”

Matthias scratched the back of his head.

“It was just an idea, guys, no need to look like I killed a Minkrat or something. And yeah, have you seen the amounts put on their heads? Catching only one of them would make us rich beyond belief.”

Louise stepped forward, running her hands through her short blonde hair.

“It could also cost us double the reward. Do you have any idea how much money we’d have to spend on fuel?”

“Yes,” Matthias sighed, “but won’t you at least think about it? I mean –”

“No-one’s been able to capture them, not in ten years.” Francis interrupted.

“True, but imagine how high in demand we’d be if we became the first.”

That silenced Francis, and Matthias took it as an opportunity to speak.

“Listen, guys, I know this has a big risk factor –”

“Oh, it has a gargantuan risk factor,” Gilbert muttered.

Matthias glared at his comment.

“ _But,_ that droid is going to be expensive to maintain.” Gilbert continued, nodding at said droid, which made a beeping noise when he did, “And, I know how you think, Matthias. This place isn’t going to support the nine of us much longer. That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it? Droid maintenance and a better apartment?” Matthias nodded wordlessly. The others didn’t seem massively convinced. Feliks moved towards him.

“Matthias, can I talk to you, in private, please?”

Without waiting for an answer, the Pyndaphian grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of earshot of the others.

“What in the worlds are you thinking? You dumb yyjyt.” Matthias noted the word. He hadn’t heard it from Feliks in years. He was ultimately oblivious to its meaning, but in the context that Feliks was using it, he was guessing it was some sort of insult or slur. He only slipped into using it when he was angry or frustrated, and Feliks was rather unpleasant in either mood.

“It was just an idea.” Matthias hissed in response, “Am I prohibited from having those, now?”

Feliks let go of Matthias’ jacket with his left hand, keeping a strong grip on him with his right. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly.

“By Macanna, Matthias, do you honestly believe we will be able to capture any of them? Because I don’t.”

“How hard could it be?” he countered.

“Oh yeah, because it’ll be easy to catch a queen, three princes or a princess! Use your head; they would have hidden themselves away.”

“No one can hide forever.”

“Well, the top five have done a pretty damn good job! They’ve not been seen for more on ten summers!”

He was slipping into his old speech patterns, that’s how Matthias knew he was pissed. Feliks had spent years learning to speak the Common Speech properly, rather than the Pyndaphian Standard. He only ever slipped when he was angry.

“Feliks, calm down! It was an idea! What are you so afraid of?”

“Afraid?” Feliks bristled, “You’shd be craven of the future in happenings!” Matthias knew roughly, what he was trying to say, but it was hard to understand the style of speech.

“Feliks!” Matthias grabbed his wrists. “You’re speaking in the Pyndaph Standard, I can’t understand you.” Feliks stopped, forehead creasing as he ran over his last words in his head. Realising what he’d said, he snatched his arms back, looking embarrassed by the slip-up. He rarely spoke like that and hated it when he did.

Muttering under his breath, Feliks turned slightly to look at him.

“You can chase your bounty, but I won’t take that risk.”

It killed Matthias a little inside, to hear his best friend say it. Trying not to look as discouraged as he was, he nodded, before following Feliks back into the living area.

The others looked up at their arrival, probably, Matthias thought, having heard them yelling. Gilbert leapt to his feet.

“I haven’t got any idea what you two talked about, but, well, I’m an idiot, so I’m on board with the idea.”

Matthias blinked. “Seriously?”

Gilbert nodded, before grinning at him.

Alfred sighed but jabbed a thumb at Gilbert.

“And I agree with him.”

Matthias glanced around the room and saw that Antonio, Louise and Ivan were all nodding – if a little reluctantly, in Louise’s case.

“All in favour?” he asked. Gilbert, Alfred, Louise, Ivan, Antonio and himself all raised their hands. Berwald, Francis and Feliks all abstained.

“Woo! Majority vote!” Gilbert hollered, pumping his fist in the air. Feliks gritted his teeth but didn’t argue. He knew when he was beaten. Francis was frowning, and Berwald just had the same stare as always. Those two must have had their own reasons for opposing it. Whatever it was, Matthias ignored it. They were actually going to do this.

Now he just had to ensure it actually worked.

* * *

_Milas Memorial Park,_   
_Herr Sector, Incanda_   
_11 th Janwir_

Lovino sighed as he lowered himself down beside his brother. Herr Sector wasn’t much different to what Jano Sector had been like, except it was a little cleaner. It had still been exhausting, though, dodging identity checks at the gates and getting through. Feliciano had fallen asleep the minute they had gotten to this park, which wasn’t a surprise. Lovino glanced down at his brother. He’d been protecting him since the Expansion and hadn’t regretted a moment of it. No matter how much starvation, abuse and hardship he’d gone through, it was all worth it if it meant his baby brother was safe from harm. Well, Feli was 16, not really a baby anymore. Still. The 19-year-old leant back, resting his head on the trunk of the tree they were camped under. Always, since he’d been born, Feli had been the favourite. Their parents, their grandfather, the people. Lovino might have been the heir and future king, but his brother was the one everyone wanted for that role. Lovino would never wish such a thing. Not because he was greedy and wanted nothing but to be a ruler, but because of how dull a life it was. He still recalled days of being taught foreign languages, politics and other things while Feli ran wild around the palace with his friends. Feliciano would find a life of leading quite boring. He was also naïve. He couldn’t remember the Expansion, he had no idea why they kept on running, and he didn’t even know what his natural hair colour was.

Lovino ran his fingers through said hair gently, careful not to wake him. Lovino had used a substance called Halkar to dye it, and his own, black. He remembered what both of them really looked like, of course, but the dye had been necessary. Their real hair was an incredible, vibrant red; a colour that was instantly recognisable as Syhvvanian. It drew the eye like you wouldn’t believe. On Syhvva, of course, it wasn’t anything special. Native human Syhvvanians were known for hair in all shades of red, olive skin and light eyes. When the pair had been running, their eyes had also been a concern. Lovino’s were amber, whilst Feliciano’s – which were barely open anyway – were a brighter golden colour.

Their accents, on the other hand, had long stopped being Syhvvanian. They’d travelled around so much that their accents were now a strange mix of several. Incanda had been their refuge for about a year now and was definitely far from the worst planet they’d stayed on.

Lovino’s decision to not tell his brother the reason for their running had been controversial within his own mind. Feli knew the planet was now under Union control, along with two of the other Free Courts of Daerna and Fynkn - and he knew that Lovino wanted to get to the Resistance, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. Feliciano would probably flip out if he remembered or if Lovino told him. They were royalty, but Feliciano had no idea. Lovino wanted to fight for Syhvva, but for Feliciano, it was just one of several planets annexed by the Union. For Lovino, it was something different.

He couldn’t quite describe it, but he felt rather _possessive_ of the planet. It was strange, yes, but it had never faded, not even a little, in over ten years.

Removing his hand from his brother’s head after he began to stir, Lovino cast his thoughts towards the Resistance. After years and years of trying to find them, he’d finally discovered that they had a base on Nyma. He had his heart set on getting there as quickly as possible. However, it would be very expensive to get there. At the current rate, it could take them up to a year to earn enough to get a flight there, and Lovino simply couldn’t wait that long. The war between the Union and the numerous resistance groups around the galaxy was escalating, and Lovino wanted to be in the thick of it. He knew that the Resistance had been searching for him and the other surviving royalty from the Free Courts, and he wanted them to find him. It shouldn’t have been too difficult for anyone, considering how loose-lipped Feliciano could be.

Trying his best to shut out his own thoughts, Lovino turned his sights on the Port, not ten minutes’ walk away. There were countless ships there. If they got on the right one, one going to Nyma, or at least stopping for a refuel…

Lovino and Feliciano had never been stowaways before, but times were becoming a little more desperate, and they did need to get to Nyma and the rebels as quickly as possible.

Another day, he decided, one where he wasn’t so tired and hungry. They could afford to stay in the area for a few days and rest themselves. Perhaps they could briefly return to Rela, another planet just a few systems away. They had an apartment there which was more comfortable than anywhere else that they had lived in. Okay, so, perhaps he would allow them both some time to calm down and rest in Rela. After that, though, Nyma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 16/7/18: Changed several details to fit with continuity, involving Gilbert + Alfred's backstories. Also included details about the Vargas' apartment in Rela, which I stupidly forgot to mention the first time around. Usual spelling + grammar check, because I am beta-less and wow, my computer's spell check is not as effective as I thought it was.


	3. The Journeys That Define Us

_Aralosian Orbit-Space,_  
_Mandaria Asteroid Belt,_  
_Hyfta System,  
13th_   _Janwir_

Feliks glowered out at the asteroid drifting idly by his window. He’d had the same, vexed expression on his face for several hours now – along with a slumped frame and crossed arms – and was fairly certain that his face and body had moulded permanently to accommodate the mien. He couldn’t help but feel like Matthias had completely ignored what he’d said. And, still, even though he’d made it clear he didn’t want to come, he’d been dragged along, because of course he had. To top it all off, Matthias was barely speaking to him, and would only give very strained smiles when he tried to talk to him. Feliks didn’t know why, but suspected that he’d said something during their argument – the last time he’d properly spoken to Matthias – to insult or hurt him.

Feliks hadn’t meant it, of course, he was just worried about all of their safety. Some of those in their crew had been through enough. They didn’t need any extra heartache. Feliks didn’t consider himself someone who’d suffered massively. Unlike others, he hadn’t been forced to watch his parents or any other family die. His time on the streets had been rough, but he was sure others had experienced worse. He remembered a conversation he’d had with his aunt once.

_‘No matter how much pain you go through, there will always be someone who has felt worse.’_

She’d said. He, only 7 at the time, hadn’t understood.

 _‘But, auntie, what if there is no one who has felt worse?’_ his aunt just smiled at him and tapped him on the nose, smiling slightly.

_‘That won’t happen, don’t you worry.’_

It had taken him years to understand what she meant. Pain and suffering were almost always things that could be dwarfed. There could almost always be something worse. By the time it got to something resembling the ‘absolute worst’, the only thing left was death, by which point it didn’t matter anymore. Dead men didn’t keep records. There was no worst. Just the pain you felt, and how you chose to deal with it. Feliks knew that now. He’d felt severe pain in the past, but he’d kept on going despite it.

This was a different kind of pain, though. It was the pain of having one of your best friends ignore and dismiss you. He’d always thought Matthias valued his opinion, but he felt useless now, dragged out to a desolate planet to hunt for a bunch of royals who hadn’t been seen in over a decade.

Feliks shook his head his head at himself. What was wrong with him? He didn’t get what he wanted, so he was throwing a fit? He was ashamed of himself. If he was a good friend, he would have supported Matthias, no matter how much he hated the idea himself. And it  _was_ better than sitting around trying to scramble after minor cases. He dragged himself off the couch he’d previously been slumped on, deciding to go and talk to Matthias. He’d make it clear he didn’t want to be going, but he’d still go only with whatever his best friend said.

Feliks took one last look out the window at Aralos. It was a vibrantly coloured planet, the surface an array of reds, browns, oranges and yellows. The clouds, rather than white, were black, a specialty of the planet. It did add a certain beauty when viewed from orbit, though. He pressed his hand to the panel beside the door to open it, before continuing down the hall to find his friends.

* * *

 _Herr Sector,_  
_Interplanetary Docking Bay,_  
_Incanda,  
13th Janwir_

Lovino muttered a soft curse as the captain made to make another check of the roster. This particular ship was headed to Rela. It would be a hindrance, true, for them, rather than travelling straight to Nyma, but it was necessary. The captain continued to bellow out instructions. The man was a gargantuan one by any normal standards; he stood, easily, at over seven feet, with a mane of twisted silver hair and black eyes to match – had made at least three checks already that all the cargo had been loaded onboard. Of course, this was hardly surprising. The man, evidently born of Metteoan parents, would have been one to be careful. His kind were renowned for caution, a trait that used to, before the Great Conquest, annoy him greatly. What was the point of living life if you spent half of it worrying over trivial matters?

Now however, he understood, at least, the instinctual caution. The universe was a dangerous place, and at any moment, attack, death or assault were all valid possibilities. This was true especially for unseized planets, rife with homicide, rape and other crimes – as well as their many offending criminals. Those were planets whose very names were constantly accompanied by horrifying rumours and old stories, fraught with both obvious inaccuracies and saddening truths. Those places were places never willingly travelled to, at least not by the sane and sensible. But Lovino did not have the time or the means to be either of those things, and for this reason, he and his brother were headed to the furthest reaches of the civilised universe, to the most unpredictable and untameable of these planets. None of them was a particularly friendly option. Aralos was a desert planet filled with criminals starved for money, food and sex – people who would use force and violence to get all three of those things. Qyyyt was a dark, spiritless prison filled with the hopeless and the soulless. Jhobras was a planet of decade-long floods balanced out by droughts that spanned the same amounts of time.

All could mean certain death for Feliciano, but Lovino would fit in well in each. Feliciano was innocent still, and not in the sense that he had not been exposed to the horrors of the universe. He had, and many more than the average person would have been. But he had not yet been forced to take part in those same horrors. Lovino was not so innocent. Feli seemed to believe that his older brother had managed to get them this far without doing anything shady, that his brother had managed to keep them alive through morality alone.

Feliciano was naïve.

The captain straightened up from where he had been bowed over, checking a new case of black glass brought in by a merchant who seemed, from what conversation they had overheard, to have a bad habit of sleeping in. He grumbled something in Mettethi and handed a fat pouch to the merchant, who bowed, before yelling in crude Lysi to the men standing behind him. Silently, lodging not a single complaint, they began carting the cases up into the cargo hanger. Any normal man at the least, would have furrowed a brow at the sharp, caustic way in which the instructions were delivered. But these were not men. The curling ink on the neck and silver teardrop chains were the initial indicator, but the slumped posture that all of the men held made it just as obvious what they were.

Lovino narrowed his eyes slightly, hating not their clothing, or the manner in which they carried themselves, but at the haunted expressions on their faces, and the downcast look on the face of each one. Their position was not admirable, or enviable in any small measure, but it was still, perhaps, preferable to the life of a pariah. Turning his gaze from them, Lovino nudged his brother, and gestured to a small alcove in the wall, hidden when standing by the door. Feliciano nodded wordlessly and slipped inside, pushing himself to the very back. Lovino moved silently toward the opposite side of the cargo hold, where he was in a much smaller, much more uncomfortable and much more dangerous spot. Here, however, he could clear the way if necessary without his brother being in the line of fire. His long, slender fingers brushed along the blade of his dagger, before tightening around the bone hilt. Lovino would do anything for his brother, whether it be going hungry himself to feed Feli, stealing and cheating so he could sleep in a bed, or, in the worst outcome, slitting his brother’s throat so as to avoid a painful and prolonged death, Lovino would do it.

But now was not the time to dwell on such things. Lovino shifted his weight between both legs as the metal beneath him began to vibrate, and the dull roar of engines starting filled the chilled air. The entire ship tilted before Lovino heard the dull slamming of landing gear retracting, and knew they were well on their way.

* * *

 _Mauriti Settlement,_  
_Vyls Desert,_  
_Aralos,  
14th Janwir_

Tori watched with mild interest as the ship docked. It clearly wasn’t a ship on any professional business or trade. The build and model were far too slim and inconspicuous. The ship she was looking at was built for speed and agility, and definitely not for holding a massive amount of cargo or passengers. It was, clearly, just another load of people trying to sift through the shit in the galaxy to find something worth more than a copper piece. Whether that was vehicles, jewels, artefacts or people, Tori didn’t care to find out. She had watched a million persona-non-gratas pass through this system, and knew every type in which they came.

Using her arms to propel herself off the wall she’d been leaning on, Tori began moving toward the centre of Mauriti. The settlement couldn’t really be called a town; even village was too rich a word for it. In reality, it was really only a small collection of shanties and roughly-constructed shelters with a stone wall built around it, notable only for the fact it was the only place in the entire Vyls desert with even a drop of water. It was a cesspool of sex, drugs, illegal trade and violence but shit, it was home.

It was even more depressing a prospect than it sounded, and it was her reality. Not always had she survived here like she did now. Before, when she was younger, she had had to develop some skill as a pickpocket just to get by, and often went days without meals. Sometimes, kind foreigners would pass her a coin or two, but normally that didn’t last long. When she was younger, she also didn’t have a good concept of saving money. At that age, she had believed in doing things the moral way. Now, that was an idea she had not dwelled on for years. It seemed amazing she had once been so steadfast in a set of values, especially since she had left those same values in the dust. She had retained few of them. She had been forced to accept that morals didn’t feed you, or clothe you, or put money in your pocket. Action did, and action in this place was almost as immoral as you could get.

She had not been mentored by a wise man or woman determined to make the scrawny but potential-filled underdog into the great person they were destined to be. She had been forced to her knees, struck with a metal wrench and forced open. She did not censor her thoughts to it. It was a simple fact. That man had shown her the true darkness of the world, and in return for this disclosure, she had pushed his head into a vat of water until his entire body went still. Afterwards, an old woman of Rywanese descent had calmly informed her that she would pay Tori to collect mechanical parts from crashed ships and hovercraft. Tori had set out at dawn the next morning, and never looked back. It was not a satisfying tale of heroics and resilience, it was a short and bitter history of learning to shut the fuck up and deal with what life threw at you. The past couldn’t be changed, but the future was free to be altered. Tori liked to keep that in mind when life was particularly shitty.

The ‘centre’ of Mauriti was a small omega-shaped grouping of stalls and ships that had been converted into trade bars. The common products of today appeared to be figs and dry Jhobrasi ale - a combination that could wreak havoc on one’s bowels. Tori, unfortunately, knew from experience. She hadn’t been able to walk for a week, and just the sight of either was enough to make her lose her appetite. Luckily, she hadn’t had much of one upon entering the ring, so she did not consider it much of a loss. As she surveyed the area, she noticed a man – a foreigner, evident just from how he was dressed, who appeared to be in the midst of making the same mistake she had once made.

Within moments she had crossed the ring to where he stood, and took in a little more of his appearance. He was tall, taller than her, anyway, with long blond hair and a pair of sharp green eyes. Beside him stood a tall man with dirty blond hair hanging every which way, blue eyes and a massive grin on his face. The two were talking together excitedly in what she recognised, after a moment, as Common Speech. She would guess they were either Rywanese or Reycausian, then. She approached briskly, and reached over and tapped the shorter man on the shoulder. He turned, his green eyes meeting her own.

“You aren’t buying those together, are you?” she asked, not bothering to introduce herself, or even greet them.

“Uhh,” the man looked down at the produce in his hands, “well yes, but–”

“If you’re getting both the ale and the figs, never eat them together.” She cut in.

He blinked. “Why no–”

“You’ll shit and vomit out half your body weight, and you won’t be able to feel your legs for a week.” She stated simply. The man’s eyes were open almost comically wide, and she shrugged genially before turning on her heel and marching in the opposite direction.

“Thanks, I guess.” The man said behind her. She didn’t respond, or even acknowledge the fact that he had spoken. She pulled her  _rihk-al_ closer around her head and tucked a few stray hairs underneath the light, silken cloth. As she moved out of the ring, she noticed another group entering. It was the pilots of the recently landed ship in the docks. Perhaps not all of them, true, but among them she saw two men and, to her surprise, a woman clearly of Nymian descent. Evidently then, she had been wrong, and they were not bounty hunters after all. Curiosity successfully peaked, she silently vowed to keep her eye on them while they stayed in Mauriti.

Anyone who was not a bounty hunter was better than most of Mauriti’s inhabitants. People who weren’t bounty hunters still potentially possessed some empathy. And if that was so, they could get her out of here.

* * *

 _Kalsi’Na,_  
_Rykkné Plains,_  
_Aralos  
14th Janwir_

Lia turned over onto her left side, attempting to make herself comfortable; no matter what she did, however, she seemed unable to find a position that could aid her quest for a good sleep. Lukas had set off toward the seedy looking shops that lined the narrow dirt road, probably to attempt to barter for food and clothing that was more suitable for their environment. Lia reached her hand out and smiled when she felt the horse snuffle against her hand. Though she rarely spoke of it, Lia loved animals. Birds in particular. She remembered, back on Fynkn, she had a small black and white bird that would fly after her wherever she went, and caw softly when she spoke to it. It hadn’t had a name, but she held the memories of it fondly in her mind. The horses were the first animals she had been near for a while as, prior to the wasted landscape of Aralos, she and Lukas had been residing on Reycass.

Staying in a cramped, musty room less than five square metres, animals had been a complete nope. Lukas had managed to steal these two beautiful horses from a Hestion-bound slaver with horrific jaundice. The man’s personality had been even more unpleasant than his appearance, and Lia had briefly witnessed the barrage of slurs, insults and slaps that followed the accidental dropping of a crate by a sallow-faced worker. Any sympathy she had held for the man and his obvious health issues vanished in an instant; replaced with anger and disgust. How some people were able to be so heartless to others was beyond her, and she had seen some very despicable people.

Lia had taken after her brother, however, and didn’t show much emotion in response to these facts, or anything else. She and her brother tended to have what one Lysi officer had dubbed ‘perennial stoicism’. Neither of them seemed to enjoy letting others understand what was going on through their minds, and so would constantly make sure they were as unreadable as possible. Letting others in was dangerous, because with familiarity came friendship, and with friendship came spilled secrets, and no-one in the universe would help them if they knew who was after them.

Lia sat up as she heard the door to the small shanty open, and relaxed only after she saw the unmistakeable dark blue hue of her older brother’s eyes. He had long since had to dye her hair and his own. Both now a rich auburn colour, in comparison to Lukas’ usual white blond and Lia’s silver. It was bad enough that they couldn’t change their eyes. Leaving their hair the same would be the equivalent of writing ‘FYNKNIAN ESCAPEE’ on her forehead. It was just as suicidal and thoughtless.  

Lukas settled down next to her, running his long, slender fingers through the horse’s mane gently. His brow was furrowed slightly, and he seemed a little put off.

“What is it?” Lia inquired, leaning over a little so she didn’t have to speak as loudly.

“Not a single ship is headed to Nyma.” Her brother said, voice heavy as he rested his arm over his eyes. “Not one.”

“Well, shit, but we can wait.” She replied, though their options appeared to be getting seriously limited now.

Lukas lifted his arm slightly and peered at her.

“Lia.”

“Don’t fucking argue with me.” She warned.

“Lia.”

“It is not pointless, okay? We will get off this shitty planet and survive, and take back our planet from the assholes that took it from us!”

“Emilia.” He said, voice a little harder now.

"By Macanna, what?” she asked.

Lukas leant back a little, resting his arm back over his eyes.

“Don’t swear.”

Emilia punched him, warranting a small laugh from Lukas as he sat up, letting a few strands of his dyed hair to fall over his eyes. She glared at him a moment before hugging him. Lukas reciprocated, and she could feel his smirk against her shoulder.

“There is a city not far from here, apparently. Couldn’t get the name, sadly, but we should be able to at least get off this wasteland. In the meantime, however, are you ready to see how sharp-eyed Aralosians are?”

She pulled away, already planning out what ways in which she could best rob the civilians of the town.

“You bet.”

* * *

 _Mauriti Settlement,_  
_Vyls Desert,_  
_Aralos_  
_15th Janwir_

Feliks awkwardly patted Alfred’s head, trying to conceal his smile. His loud-mouthed friend had, despite the warning Matthias and himself had passed on, attempted to digest figs and Jhobrasian ale in the same day. It hadn’t ended well for the 20 year old, who was now draped over one of the moth-eaten couches bolted down in the common room of their ship. Feliks had told his friend not to eat the two in the same day – wisely, he saw now, heeding the warning that the  _rihk-al_ wearing girl had given him – and in response, Al had attempted to beat biology. The man, did, however, in contrast to what the girl had said, seemed to be cleansing his body of the combination in a way different to what she stated. The figs and ale were, to put it crudely, coming out the other way. Feliks didn’t think he’d seen so much vomit in his life, and Francis hadn’t been able to come down this end of the ship without gagging. Unfortunately, as Berwald seemed to think that it was Feliks’ fault for putting the idea in Al’s head in the first place, the Pyndaphian had been assigned to caring for the near-comatose man.

Stretching as he stood up, Feliks cracked his joints loudly before heading for the door. Since the Aralosian girl had known the effects the combination had on the body (he pitied her if it was from personal experience), he figured she might have a possible way of curing it. Or, at the very least, an extremely efficient way of cleaning up vomit.

After yelling to Gilbert where he was going, and to take care of Al whilst he was gone, Feliks made his way out into the sun. It was a good change to be on such a warm planet. Gilbert’s fair, melanin-deprived skin had been unable to handle the intense heat let off by the planet’s sun, though Feliks guessed the reason for his friend’s reclusion was also related to a Garvich that the group had spotted on their way in. Gilbert hated being near members of the Garvirili race, and it was not based on their culture, or even their unconventional and somewhat unpleasant appearance. It was based more on their sense of smell, and exactly what sort of things would happen if they got a good whiff of him. Gilbert was, as dubbed by most history books and common races, a ‘taint’. They were not at all common nowadays, and for good reasons that were mostly ethically related. Feliks had been taught the same old tales when he was young. But he remembered little of his school environment, and had known Gilbert for over 4 years, and knew exactly which one he trusted more.

Mauriti, as the walled settlement was called, didn’t seem to be filled with people that would care much, but Gilbert was, as much as he might deny it, cautious, and would rather not run the risk of being singled out. As he walked, Feliks realised, with a chunk of logic so massive it stopped in his tracks, that it would be very hard to find to locate the girl who had helped him. She had been wearing a  _rihk-al_ , used mostly in areas like these for the blessing of anonymity. And, of course, many others here were wearing the very same garb. Muttering curses under his breath at his own stupidity, Feliks absently walked forward, wishing he had thought of that. Not willing, however, to give up, or, indeed, sacrifice the freedom of being out on the streets, he continued on, determined to at least get a good feel for the area before they left; just in case they ever came back.

Not to mention, it would beneficial for his entire team if he was able to establish contacts in Mauriti.

So, for now, Gilbert was on vomit-duty.

* * *

 An hour in the omega-shaped centre of Mauriti was an hour well spent. The centre was larger, and more densely populated than it appeared at first glance, and Feliks had managed to be introduced to a vast array of some of the most bizarre products he had ever seen. As he walked, Feliks found himself wandering back to the stall selling the Jhobrasian ale. He picked up the bottle and turned it over in his hands, silently wondering at what could possibly be in the drink that caused such a reaction when combined with figs.

“I really hope you remember my warning.” Blinking at the familiar, feminine voice, Feliks turned to face the helpful Aralosian girl. Upon closer inspection, he could see that she wasn’t Aralosian at all. From what he could see of her face, she was fair-skinned, and possessed the most spectacular green eyes he had ever seen. Realising what she had said, Feliks stepped back, placing the bottle back on the bench.

“Oh, no. I mean, yes, I remember it. I warned my friends, too, but one of them didn’t listen.”

She raised a dark eyebrow.

“And?”

“My sincerest apologies if you know that from personal experience. My friend’s stomach seems to be trying to eject itself out of two different openings.”

The girl sighed, shaking her head slightly.

“I did warn you.”

“And I heeded that warning. My friend isn’t too bright.” The girl made a short noise that might have been a laugh, and, encouraged, Feliks continued. “Actually, I was looking for you. I was just wondering, if you know of a cure, or is it just best to wait it out?”

The girl cocked her head slightly.

“Yes, I have something that decreases symptoms and pretty much heals you, but it’ll cost you.”

Feliks held up the pouch of money he’d been carrying around all morning.

“I can afford it.”

* * *

 The girl, or woman, as he should say, led him back to her small stall, which appeared to be full of old machine parts and other spare implements. She moved to the back and began shuffling through a chest, which appeared to be filled with a variety of different things. After a moment or two, he heard her curse before he heard a rustling noise. Turning to gaze absently out at the street, he struck up small talk.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Linara.”

“Is that your real name?”

“No.”

“Shame, it’s a pretty one.”

“My real one is prettier.”

“I’m sure it is.”

He heard her make a triumphant noise before calling him over. He turned, caught sight of her, and blinked a little. Evidently the rustling earlier had been her fiddling with her rihk-al. The headscarf now was looped around her neck, and he could clearly see her face. She had fair skin, though it was a few hues darker than his own, likely due to her years living under the Aralosian sun. Her nose seemed perfectly proportioned for the rest of her elfin-shaped face. Her eyes, still that same captivating shade of green, where framed by long, dark eyelashes, and lay beneath arched eyebrows. Her hair, in surprising contrast to her fair skin – as she clearly wasn’t of Yanian descent – was a dark brown colour. She had grown it out to her waist, and it was twisted into a long braid.

In other words, she was attractive in the way that she could be a serious distraction.

Raising an eyebrow at his unusual lack of words, the girl handed him a small ceramic bottle, presumably filled with some sort of liquid, and made a hand gesture that said  _money bitch_. Fumbling slightly, Feliks extracted the amount they’d previously agreed on, and handed over the coins. She took them, curling her fingers around them as she did so, before pocketing them.

Feliks drummed his fingers awkwardly on his leg, unsure of what to do next.

“So,” he said slowly, stretching out the vowel. “How long have you lived on Aralos?”

The girl looked at him suspiciously. Of course, people on this planet probably wouldn’t want to spill their life story to a stranger.

“Why do you want to know that?” she asked, voice edgy.

“Uhh,” Feliks felt his cheeks heat up.  _Idiot._ “I was just curious. You seem interesting.”

The girl blinked at him as though she had never had such a thing said to her. Her gaze hardened, obviously believing he was trying to coerce her into something.

“Get out.”

“Yes ma’am.” He responded before turning on his heel and leaving.

Well, that had not gone well.

* * *

 Carlotta leant back, gazing up at the pale sky. One would think that an eternal fire-pit of a planet like Aralos would be, at the least, clear skied. But no, the planet had displayed monotonous greys and creams as it’s default sky colour. Perhaps it was something in the atmosphere, or perhaps every part of the planet was just actively trying to kill its inhabitants with depression. Whichever it was, Carlotta was beginning to get sour, and she had been here only a few days. No wonder the locals were so bitter and reclusive.

“Lotte!” she turned as she heard her nickname being called. Tino was jogging over the red dirt road toward her. She grinned at him. Tino was fitting in well here already. Though he originated from a cold region of Rywan, he dealt with extreme environments very well. He seemed, also, to have developed a strong liking of the loose, sand coloured robes worn by visitors and locals alike. His own uniform was similar, though it was white and more form-fitting than these robes were.

He reciprocated the grin as he came close enough to talk to her.

“I finally found you! Do you have any idea how long I was wandering around town looking?”

Lotte grinned.

“Sorry, I wanted to get a feel for the area.” Tino waved it off.

“It’s alright. Anyway, we’re leaving.”

“What?” Lotte said, startled.

“We’re leaving, in about half an hour actually. We got an epistle. Apparently, the intel was wrong. The cruiser was headed to Aramons, on Pyndaph, not Aralos. We’d have long missed them.”

Carlotta’s shoulders sagged.

“You’re kidding! So the mission’s off, then?”

Tino nodded.

“Yup. No point in us staying on Aralos or wasting more fuel chasing them. We’ll get back to Nyma, and be reassigned, from what I’ve heard.”

“Damn it.” Carlotta cursed. All this time, and they hadn’t been anywhere near their target. Tino sighed, evidently empathising with her. “Let’s just get off this planet then. I don’t want to have to spend any more time here than is absolutely necessary.” Tino nodded in agreement, before holding his arm out in a mock gesture. Carlotta knew it was a mock gesture because of two things. One, Tino never would bother with formalities like this for a friend. And two, Tino had absolutely no interest in girls. Carlotta merely grinned and accepting with an overly flamboyant gesture and a wide, shit-eating grin before the two moved off toward where their ship was docked.

* * *

  _Bibesti,_  
_Rela,_  
_16th Janwir_

Lovino cursed as he moved his cramping legs. For the past 3 days he had been curled up tightly in the same position, and his joints screamed in agony as he moved around. Gritting his teeth when he heard approaching footsteps, Lovino flexed his fingers and shifted slightly, preparing for the inevitable face-off between him and an unsuspecting Relusian. Lovino had spent the past few days recalling what sort of security they could expect once they docked in Bibesti. From what he’d seen of the cargo being transported, none of it was truly valuable. It was mostly wild rice and some moderately common spices. Not to mention, compared to some of the other cargo ships coming to Bibesti - some of which held fine silks and precious stones in their thousands - this one was very low priority, meaning that, if Lovino was correct, he could expect no more than two or three guards searching for stowaways such as themselves. Three guards he could easily handle.

Lovino’s hand drifted to his dagger as the telltale scrape of metal on it’s frame met his ears. Light filled the dark cargo hold, and Lovino knew they had arrived. He heard a faint murmur of voices, but no one entered the hold. Smirking slightly, Lovino crept silently to the door. A guard was posted maybe 3 metres from the entry ramp, and another stood about 5 times that distance away, near the steps leading down to the rest of the docking bays.

They were the only two around, and both seemed half asleep, obviously not happy about being there.

This would be easy.

Lovino slunk silently from the ship, moving down the sloped metal ramp as quietly as possible. He was barefoot, as he’d pulled his shoes off in the ship and given them to his brother for safekeeping, and his bare feet were soundless on the grated material. As silently as possible, he straightened up from his half-crouched position and grabbed the guard’s head. Shoving his hand over the mouth of the now wildly-writhing guard, Lovino pulled his dagger from its sheath and pushed the sharp metal into the man’s throat. Warm, pulsing flesh enveloped his fingers as he pushed it deeper, and hot blood gushed all over his hand and wrist. Lovino pushed and pushed, letting the blade cut effortlessly through skin, muscle and tendons, until he heard the familiar grating noise of metal on bone. Retracting his now-drenched hand, Lovino lay the body on the ground, praying the blood didn’t spill too far. He still had to lead Feli out of here and back to their apartment, and didn’t want his younger sibling being scarred by the sight.  

Now bending his back again, Lovino approached the second guard. This one, however, had better hearing than his fellow, heard the faint noises of movement, and turned around. In an instant, the guard took in the sight of a bloodstained Lovino, the knife clutched in his hand, and the body of his comrade lying behind him. Eyes widening, the guard attempted to move back.

He had better hearing than the other man, it was true. But it wasn’t that much better. Before the man had time to take more than a few steps back, Lovino’s dagger was buried hilt-deep in his carotid artery. He let out a loud gurgling noise, forcing Lovino to stuff his bloodied fist into his mouth to stop the noise while he held him in a headlock. When the second guard had finally stopped moving, and he had lain his body down on the ground, Lovino pulled the man’s water canteen from his belt and used the water to wash most of the blood off his knife and hands. He dropped the now-empty container next to his body. He hesitated a moment, listening intently for any footsteps.

There weren’t any, meaning that these two had been the only guards after all. They would be discovered soon enough, meaning that Lovino and Feliciano had to hurry. Making his way quickly back to the ship, Lovino rapped the dagger twice on the metal hull of the ship - the signal that it was clear. Feli approached happily, glad once again that his older brother was safe. Before he could see outside, however, Lovino stopped him and put his clean hand over his younger brother’s eyes.

“Lovi?” Feli exclaimed, looking disoriented. “What are you doing?”

“Shush, we need to leave. I’ll lead you, don’t worry.”

Lovino felt Feli frown against his hand, but his younger brother, thankfully, didn’t question it.

“Okay.”

Pulling him hurriedly down a small side alley made of old shipping containers, Lovino hurried his brother away from the murder scene. He waited until they were at least 200 metres away to remove his hand. Feli blinked a little, and immediately began gazing around at the familiar Relusian landscape. The city of Bibesti had been the place in which they had spent most of their vagabond days. Eventually, from a mixture of increasingly questionable money-making methods, they’d been able to purchase a shitty but passable apartment in the Szwicza sector of the city. Despite the rather deplorable condition it was in, it was the closest thing to a home that they had. They had only been away for a few weeks, so hopefully, no-one would have been able to get in. They had eight locks on the door, so Lovino hoped so.

With that thought, Lovino grabbed his brother’s hand and continued pulling him southward, toward the city.

* * *

  _Mauriti Settlement,_  
 _Vyls Desert,_  
 _Aralos,_  
 _20th Janwir_

Feliks rubbed his now stinging cheek, wishing that Aralosians weren’t so temperamental.

He supposed, if it was him, he wouldn’t want a strange foreigner following his everywhere, asking incessantly for their name because they fancied him. Well, actually, yes, he would like that a lot, but the dark haired girl standing in front of him didn’t seem to appreciate it. He couldn’t help it though. He’d been mildly fascinated with her ever since she’d helped out with Alfred’s gastrointestinal dilemma, and he found it amazing that someone like her, clearly from a planet far from this one, still lived and had adapted to life on a planet like this so effectively.

Also, fuck him, but he fancied her.

And so, for the past few days, he had passed the time by seeking her out in the small town and attempting to strike up conversation. Sometimes, he had succeeded, and actually learnt a few things about her. Other times, she had just ignored him or swore at him to go away.

He had, however, never been slapped by her before.

She was currently glaring at him, though she now looked a little wary and cautious. He was, after all, taller than her, though he did not know if her could say in confidence that he was stronger. She definitely had a far fiercer spirit than he did himself. Feliks blinked a little, trying to figure out how deal with this situation.

Though he had been in many difficult predicaments before, he couldn’t say that he had ever been faced with an angry Aralosian girl with a mean backhand. That was definitely a new experience.

He met her gaze.

“You, ma’am, have an excellent backhand.”

Whatever she was expecting him to say, it clearly wasn’t that. Her mouth fell open, and she stared at him a moment before she began to look seriously confused. She stared at him, trying to gauge whether or not he was being serious, and, when she saw that he was, facepalmed.

“You are fucking crazy.”

Feliks shrugged, having been told so many times that the sentence had begun to lose all meaning.

“I know.”

The girl kept staring, and then started laughing. It wasn’t a short, sharp laugh, either. It was a genuine, amused laugh. Feliks, amazed and glad that he had been able to make the girl create such a sound, surreptitiously high-fived himself while she wasn’t looking. Eventually, her laughs died down, and, shaking her head in wonder, smiled at him.

“You are one determined guy, I’ll give you that. It’s been, what? Five days? Since you first asked my name?”

Feliks nodded, smiling slightly.

She sighed, though the smile remained on her face.

“Tori.” she said, “It’s Tori, so please, stop stalking me.”

“Tori.” Feliks tested out the name. It definitely suit her. “A pretty name for an even prettier girl.”

“Fuckwit.” she responded, though he could have sworn her cheeks were slightly redder than they were before.

“It’s Feliks, actually.” he said, making her laugh again.

“Alright,” she said, looking at him with a newfound curiosity on her face as she picked up the hemp bag she’d dropped pre-slap. “Feliks, I’ll see you later.” Tori turned and began making her way toward the centre of Mauriti.

Oh, he was definitely looking forward to it.


	4. The Difficulties That Plague Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally this thing is written and posted! Sorry it's been so long since my last update
> 
> Rikh-al - Headscarf  
> Creshkri = term for someone beautiful or extremely attractive  
> Se = Yes

_Szwicza District,_   
_Bibesti, Rela,_   
_16 th Janwir_

Bibesti was dangerous at the best of times, and these were not the best of times.

Shadows leaped from the sides of buildings; animals scuttled in the dark corners of alleys and ran along sewers; the sides of narrow passageways were cluttered with abandoned crates, useless and broken objects, and the occasional dead body. The latter failed to unnerve Lovino anymore. After so much time in the Universe, things like this failed to shock or excite any form of emotion in him. Feliciano, however, was more susceptible, and let out small wails of horror and disgust whenever they passed by one. Lovino barely spared them a glance after he internally counted more than six. It was easy to pretend you couldn’t see them, but much harder to pretend you couldn’t smell them. The foul stench of decomposing flesh – sometimes human, sometimes not – was overpowering. So, despite his indifferent attitude toward their presence in the streets, his eyes still watered. Their unrelenting effect on his body then warranted his eyes to direct their gaze toward the cause.

Black, grey, blue, brown – the skin of the corpses was blotchy in colour – in some places, the cause of that being’s death was evident. Lovino saw several corpses with gaping, evidently knife-borne injuries. Others had been shot. Some, judging by their mass, had simply lain down and died of starvation, or some sort of disease. In the few human corpses they came across, knife wounds seemed to be the primary cause of death. It was sickening to see how their eyes had rotted away, and how their bodies were bloated with gases as their organs slowly liquefied. At one point as they walked through the side-alleys, they found a much more recent one, with crephelias twisting their way through what had been the face of the being. Lovino had to shudder at this. Crephelias were long black creatures resembling worms – but they were carnivorous, and had rows and rows of razor sharp teeth.

Lovino noted that there were more bodies than usual along this way, and silently recalled the news they heard of crime spikes in the Southern districts. Sadly, Szwicza was one of said Southern districts. They were used to seeing crime, and had also been both victims and perpetrators of it in the past, so this hadn’t bothered them when they were home-hunting. Lovino, however, had nothing but an 8-inch dagger strapped to his belt and his own two fists. He could use the dagger better than anyone else on these streets, and he did fistfight for a living, so he was experienced, but he would rather avoid trouble – at least until tomorrow. There were other ways to deter criminals, but he refused to use them. That would mean a long explanation to Feliciano, one that he wasn’t sure he wanted to give yet. Of course, he would have to explain their lineage eventually, but preferably not for a while.

They exited one of the alleys and entered a wider, more open street. Here, Lovino could actually see the sky again, which relaxed him slightly. It was almost pitch black, though of course the planet’s three moons were all visible in the sky, as well as a scattering of stars.

After what felt like an hour of walking through the gigantic city, they stumbled across a familiar sign, draped in neon and lit up brighter than the entirety of the suburbs behind them.

SZPINATEL’S GORGEOUS GIRLS – UPSTAIRS! TWO FOR ONE ON FRIDAYS!!!

It had not been Lovino’s first choice, to buy an apartment just across the street from a brothel, but it had been cheapest, and besides, it wasn’t like they ever actually went in there. Shaking his head at the sign, as he always did, Lovino grabbed Feliciano’s arm and pulled him across the street, staring up at the building that housed their ‘home away from home’. They entered the foyer, and he tensed slightly when he saw a group of people, dressed all in dark colours, standing not far from the stairs. The tension disappeared, however, when he recognised Sadik as one of them. The Nymian man waved amiably at them. Lovino returned it, and he and Feliciano clambered up to the hydraulic platform that would take them to their level. He hit the button that read 176, and waited as the platform quickly ascended. The pair were silent as the platform rose, both too exhausted by the flight, ensuing violence and walk through the city to converse. Eventually, a loud clang rang out, signifying that they had arrived. They quickly stepped off before climbing the short flight of stairs that led to the hallway.

Opening the door from the platform to the hallway was like stepping into another building entirely. Whilst the platform was covered in wires and other cables that carried the entire thing skyward, the hallway into which they stepped looked very different. Simple wooden floors, with a few gaps between the boards, walls plastered with wallpaper that was half torn off, or otherwise uneven and stained, with doors at 10 metre intervals. Lovino blinked slightly at the familiar sight, feeling himself relax more, before pulling his chain of keys from the inside of his shirt and strolling to the left to their apartment – number 5268 – and opening the many locks, which still appeared to be shut correctly.

Lovino sighed in relief as he opened the door and found their small refuge intact and empty of life. He gestured to Feliciano that it was safe to enter, and strolled inside.

It was small, but not too cramped, as there were only two of them. Their apartment only consisted of three rooms and a hallway. Their front door opened into the largest room, which had a fireplace situated in the same wall as the door. The room had another wall opposite, which had a door that opened onto a small balcony made of the same metal structure as the ridiculously unstable fire escape that hugged the side of the building. A desk had been pushed against this wall, and was cluttered as they’d left it, with books and their limited writing utensils. A rickety chair that groaned every time you shifted in it was tucked underneath.

Between the door and the desk was an old and very beaten up pair of sofas that they’d found abandoned on the streets – they faced the fireplace. An old rug knitted out of thin and stringy wool decorated the floor. To the left was two doors. One led to their small and somewhat grungy bathroom, the other to their kitchen, which Lovino prided himself on keeping clean. To the right, there was a cabinet filled with other assorted possessions of theirs, and two beds bolted to the wall, one above the other. The beds had storage space underneath, in which they had their emergency bags, in case they ever had to leave with a moment’s notice. All of the rooms had peeling wallpaper in either pale green or dirty yellow, wooden floors and white plaster ceilings with suspicious stains and cracks scattered throughout.

Feliciano almost collapsed onto the bottom bunk, looking like he was ready to have a nice, long sleep. Lovino relocked the door behind him, tossed the keys onto the desk and shuffled into the kitchen to fix some food. He tried to make fresh food every few nights or so, and anything left over was put in their preservation boxes to be eaten later. He sifted through it for a moment or two before he unearthed a container of beef stew. Upon looking further, he found a half-loaf of herbed bread. Nodding in satisfaction, he quickly took to heating up the stew and bread, whilst quickly whipping together a pot of amber tea. About 15 minutes later, he had a small but homely meal put together. He arranged it on a tray, and carried it out into their main room. They didn’t have a place to dine, so they tended to just eat on the floor in front of the fireplace, which Feliciano had lit.

Feli grinned when he saw the food and immediately helped him carry it to the floor.

“Thank you brother! It smells so good!” he exclaimed, uttering his first words in over three hours. Lovino allowed himself a small smile as they began to eat. It was good to have food in his stomach, and even better to be having it in a place that he knew was at least considerably safe. Feliciano inhaled his food within a few moments, and licked his fingers before turning to face Lovino again.

“So, what are we going to do now? Stay here for a while?” Feliciano said, sounding hopeful. Lovino knew he wasn’t as invested in the idea of the resistance (for obvious reasons) and preferred to stay in the places that he knew. Lovino shrugged, sipping his tea.

“We might just stay here and earn a bit more money, maybe make this place a little more comfortable, buy a few more things if we can.” He responded after a moment of thought. Feliciano clapped in delight.

“Yay! I do like it here, Lovi!” he giggled.

“I know you do,” Lovino said, smiling slightly at his little brother’s enthusiasm, “but right now, the only thing that you are going to do is sleep. Go on, you need it.” Feliciano shot him a brief look that just said _I need it?_

True, Lovino was exhausted as well, but he had things to check first. Feliciano did as he asked, however, and clambered into the bottom bunk, pulling his thin blankets around him. Once he was sure that he was drifting off, Lovino pulled himself to his feet and moved over to their desk, pulling open the lowest of the drawers along the side. From it, he pulled out their Cell. He’d bartered a day and night for this thing, and was glad to finally have in his hands. A large number of beings in the Universe had their own Cell, or at least had access to one owned by a friend, or family. Since Lovino and his brother had neither of those things right now, he’d bought one. They were useful, it was true, but he was planning to use it only briefly before selling it onward again.

He opened the Index, feeling slightly shaky. The practice of displaying important figures in society on large electronic boards had gone out of fashion, as the bounty hunting industry had found itself polluted by inexperienced lowlifes looking for a little cashflow. A multitude of hunters had complained, and thus, less and less now used boards to promote their most wanted criminals and other undesirables. Lovino figured, since he _was_ one of those wanted people, it wouldn’t hurt to know what the Index had on him and his brother.

He flicked through the settings to adjust the listings by bounty, clicked ‘refresh’ and almost dropped the Cell.

He knew, of course, that the Union was willing to pay gargantuan amounts of money for their capture, but he didn’t know that it was _that fucking much_.

All of the top five were the royals from Daerna, Syhvva and Fynkn, but he’d not been prepared for what he saw. Three had higher amounts because they were future heirs – Feli was technically only a prince, and there was also a princess from Fynkn who went for less than her elder brother – but Lovino had still not expected the results that were displayed on the screen. He felt nauseous, and had to take deep breaths as he paced back and forth.

Why, oh why, oh _why_ was he _at the top_?

The future queen from Daerna and the king of Fynkn weren’t far behind, but he still had quite the lead. The photo was one of him from his childhood, aged about 5 or so, even then with a grumpy look on his face. The price next to that face seemed so absurd, yet that was his going rate nowadays, apparently. The average slave went for about 20 million marks, the really good ones between 30 and 50 million marks. Apparently your average Syhvvanian future king went for 1,000 times that much. He wanted to wipe his eyes, and double check, but he knew that the number displayed on the screen wouldn’t change.

Nope, apparently, to the Union, he was worth _50 billion fucking marks_. The other two future heirs went for 45 billion each, whilst Feliciano and the Fynknian princess, Emilia or something like that, went for 30 billion each. No wonder that people had not yet stopped looking for them. Money like that could let you and your family live in the epitome of luxury for several generations. It was understandable why people wanted that kind of money.

But why was he more than the others?

It stumped him for a few minutes, until he realised, oh, _of course_.

Syhvva still had their current ruler – Lovino and Feliciano’s grandfather, Romulus, who’d retained his throne after the deaths of their parents Carina and Marco. From what Lovino remembered, however, their grandfather had not enjoyed his years of rule after his daughter – their mother’s – death. Carina Vargas had been an excellent queen, but she had died prematurely, along with her husband (who adopted her surname, as was tradition for their family) – and left the planet of Syhvva with two very small children, or one slightly old but still perfectly serviceable Vargas to be ruler again. So, their grandfather had reluctantly retaken the throne, though he’d been unhappy about it.

If the people of Syhvva knew that they were alive, they would rally even further behind their existing leader for them, and their people were fiercely proud.

But also, the Gifts of Syhvvanian royalty were the most powerful as well. Those of the Daernic and Fynknian royal families were strong, but inequity between each one resulted in less power overall. The Syhvvanian Gifts, however, were very strong overall, and the Union likely didn’t want someone with that type of power running around free, stirring up rebellions.

It made sense, yes, that Lovino was at the top, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

The idea of so many people pursuing him was terrifying, that he wasn’t afraid to admit. They’d survived so far, but Feliciano could not go on in ignorance about himself for that much longer. Which left only one plan of action. He didn’t have to do it straight away, but he definitely could not keep putting it off indefinitely.

He would have to tell Feliciano everything.

* * *

_On the outskirts of Nakuuria,_   
_Aralos,_   
_17 th Janwir_

Lukas still hated Aralos, but for the first time, it wasn’t the endless, dry wastes that he was hating. No, this time, it was the extravagant wealth and beauty that he was hating. Two ideas that normally didn’t go together, he knew. It was almost as though fate were taunting them. They had finally emerged from the dusty, wide Rykkné Plains, only to find themselves on the outskirts of a large, evidently well-off city. The buildings were not like those that they had already seen in Aralos. Rather than the somewhat unstable, fabric and tent-like buildings they’d already come across, the buildings in this city were carved from sandstone or made from very hard-packed dirt. Balconies were visible on multiple, with silk tarps used to provide shade. Lukas and Lia could see little other than this, due to the walls of the cities. Most Aralosian cities were walled, actually, to keep out undesirables – particularly raiders. A place as wealthy as this probably needed these walls more than other places did.

Built from sandstone and multiple other types of stone in varying shades of grey and red, the walls were almost seven metres tall, topped with sharp spires that stood about 20 centimetres apart. Even from the distance that they were at, Lukas could see soldiers dressed in sand-coloured robes patrolling the walls. On one side of the walls, Lukas could see a massive wooden gateway, with more guards still lounging outside.

Lia, who like him had come to a halt when they’d reached the crest of the hill, now turned to him, where he could see her raising her eyebrows under the _rikh-al_ she had donned to protect herself from the heat.

“Well?” she asked simply. Lukas sighed, glancing over at his sister.

“Might as well.” He admitted.

The guards by the front gates looked up as they approached on foot, having dismounted. Though Lukas was expecting the normally frosty, bitter attitude of most Aralosians, the guard that stepped forward to greet them had a pleasant, unassuming smile on his face.

“Hello friends! How can we help you?” he said in the Common Standard, a heavy accent accompanying it. Lukas and Lia exchanged a brief look, recollecting what they had agreed to say at the gates.

“We’re travellers, sir. We’re tired, and need a place to rest. Please, can you grant us entry?” Lukas said carefully, trying to evoke as much sympathy as possible. Though he normally wasn’t emotional by any definition, he was quite the convincer. It normally helped, for whatever reason, if the being he was talking to was female or a non-heterosexual male. The guard to whom he was speaking was likely the latter, as he seemed slightly pleased, a light flush to his cheeks. He leaned forward slightly.

“Shelter, you say? I am sure that I can arrange that for you, sirrah. Our king is very welcoming to travellers, you know, I’m sure he will be delighted to accommodate the pair of you.” Lukas shot a grateful and (hopefully) beguiling smile at the guard.

“Oh, that would be much appreciated sir.” He said, glancing sideways at Lia, who had also donned her best smile. The guard turned and yelled to his fellows in another tongue, before giving Lukas a look that was definitely more libidinous than he was completely comfortable with, and gestured to the door, which was now slowly being cranked open. Lukas remounted, checking to see that Lia had done the same, before spurring their mounts to enter the city.

* * *

The city, as it turned out, was named Nakuuria, after it’s king and founder, Mirakh Nakuur. At least, that was what their flirtatious guide told them. He’d sent on a messenger to inform the king of their presence – apparently, this king liked to know who was in his city, and when. That made Lukas slightly uneasy. It was bad enough that they were getting curious stares from people who were walking through the streets, but if the _king_ knew they were here, well, it would just leave more witnesses – more people aware of their presence.

Of course, it was ridiculous for Lukas to be so high-strung. They looked nothing like their native Fynknian appearance. In their years away from their home, their fair skin had tanned and darkened under the more intense suns of other planets, and their hair was currently a rich auburn colour – nothing like it’s natural white-blond and silver respectively. Besides, the pictures of them that were so heavily featured on the Index were from their childhood, and they looked completely different now. Perhaps he was just paranoid, but he couldn’t shake the worry that plagued his mind.

Lia had shifted her _rikh-al_ so that it no longer concealed her face, staring around the city with wonder. She listened to the guard as he told them amiably about the history and culture of the city. Lukas tuned in just enough to hear a few interesting facts. Apparently, Nakuuria was the largest and richest city in Aralos – which was evident from even the briefest of glances. Their king lived in the massive villa located toward the inside of the city – which was what the guard was leading them toward right now. The streets were not hard to get through, despite having been filled with a collection of shopping citizens, other horses and animals being led along by their owners and the occasional clump of stands, selling rich, delicious-looking fruit and all sorts of other goods. Their guard, who was named Vaek, stopped to buy them some fruit from one of said stands and relax for a few minutes; talking cheerfully all the while. Collecting some more of the fruit to go, they continued onward. Lukas was silent as he ate, looking up only when he realised he had been asked a question. He blinked, embarrassed to have missed it.

“Sorry, what?” he inquired. Vaek did not look offended, on the other hand, he slapped Lukas on the back and laughed.

“Ahh, stay with us _creshkri!_ I simply asked what your names are!”

“Oh.” Lukas blinked, before nodding in understanding, “Adem Agresti.” He supplied, then nudged his sister, “This is Sinta.”

Vaek nodded, smiling wider. “Nice names you have!” he nodded again, as though confirming the fact once more. He turned to Lia, frowning slightly. “I am sorry to pry, missus, but how old are you?”

Lia blinked, looking taken aback by the question. “Uhh, 15.”

Lukas could have sworn that he saw Vaek’s smile waver, and some dark emotion flicker in his eyes, but before he could be certain, the smile returned, bright as ever.

“Se nice, se nice, just wondering!” but Vaek fell oddly silent after this short exchange, which made suspicion churn in Lukas’ stomach. He felt like there was something he’d heard once, about Nakuuria…

Before he could think on it anymore, however, Vaek let out a loud sound of triumph and gestured to the gilded doors of the King’s villa. They were finally here, and they were not alone. The messenger had clearly arrived ahead of them. Vaek flinched slightly when he looked at the small group of people assembled outside, but said nothing. He smiled again, dismounted, and gestured for them to do the same. Lukas clambered to the ground, then held out his hand for his sister to take. She accepted, and dropped down next to him.

One of the people assembled outside the doors broke away from the group to approach them. It was clear that he was the king, Mirakh. He was tall, first off, about 6’6’’, with skin that was borderline Qyyytish in tone, with dark grey hair that fell to his shoulders. Some sections had been twisted into braids and tied back with bronze bands. Even his beard was braided, and Lukas could even spot some jade beads that had been strung on as well. He was dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants with fine leather shoes. What marked him out as a king was the long stole he wore – crimson silk embroidered with gold thread and pearls. He wore no crown, but pearls were ridiculously hard to come by on Aralos, and only the most elite of the most elite could afford them.

Well, that, and he introduced himself as such.

“Good evening, my friends!” he said, spreading his arms invitingly, “I am King Mirakh Nakuur, though I am sure you already guessed as much. Welcome to my city! I trust you will find it pleasing. We rarely get visitors anymore, for reasons I will never know – my land is a haven compared to the rest of this broken, battered planet, is it not?” wanting to be polite, despite already disliking and distrusting the King of Nakuuria, Lukas nodded. The king ran his eyes over him briefly, and turned to inspect Lia. He took much longer on her; eyes dwelling such that Lukas had to suppress the sudden and violent urge to break his nose. The king’s staring, however, unnerved Lia even more, and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. It was when he began to stare for far too long at her chest, however, that she huffed in irritation. As if remembering himself, he straightened and smiled.

“My friends, what are your names? This curiosity plagues me so!” Lia looked very uneasy now, and Lukas couldn’t blame her. But they needed a place to stay. Yes, the king might be a bit of a pervert, but they needed rest and supplies badly. Lukas cleared his throat and repeated the answer he had given Vaek.

“Sinta?” the king raised an eyebrow at that. “Such a beautiful name. It suits you, _creshkri_.”

“Uhh, thank you, your majesty.” She said, fiddling with her sleeves to avoid making eye-contact.

“Anyway, friends, I understand that you are quite under the weather. You need rest, supplies, new mounts, perhaps?” he said, looking at their scrawny and dirty mounts. Lukas glanced at Lia and nodded.

“Yes, your majesty, we do.”

“Well!” the king bellowed, clapping his hands together loudly, “I will be happy to accommodate you in my castle until you can leave. I’ll see that you are well taken care of. That sounds good, yes?”

Lukas had to nod, primarily because not only did he likely not have a choice, but it _did_ sound very good.

“What would you like in return, your majesty? Surely we could repay such kindness.” Lia said. The king waved a hand, but Lukas could already tell that he still wanted something.

“Oh, so considerate. I am, now that I think of it, having an important banquet in three night’s time. I would be honoured if you two would indulge me with your company. The young and attractive are always favoured at these events. You need not pay for clothes or food, I want only your camaraderie. Fair enough, yes?”

Lukas hesitated, but really, what else could he say? It was a fair offer.

“Yes, we’ll gladly accompany you, your majesty.”

“Excellent! Then come in, please, you look completely drained. Vaek, you can be the escort and guide for our visitors, yes?”

Vaek nodded, but his face had taken on a strained, stiff look, much contrary to the smile he’d borne before. Lukas’ unease mounted, but the idea of resting was so irresistible right now. Besides, if it came down to it, he could get the two of them out no problem. His Gifts were quite strong by this point. Lukas chanced a quick look behind him at the rest of the city, stretching out and illuminating the darkness of the desert. He felt cool air on his face as the doors of the King’s villa were opened, and, against his better judgement, stepped inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 25/7/16: Fixed spelling and grammar errors, checked for issues in continuity.


	5. The Gifts We Are Blessed With

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: I changed Matthias' age, so he is now 22 instead of 19.  
> Anyway, the next chapter should hopefully be up in the next few weeks, because i now have way more time on my hands, so keep an eye out, and please comment if you want.

  * **F** **ULL** **NAME:** _Lovino Daniele Mattia Vargas_


  * **AGE _:_** _19_


  * **GENDER** _ **:** Male_


  * **ETHNICITY** _ **:** Syhvvanian_


  * **HEIGHT** _ **:** Between 5’7’’ and 5’10’’ (genetic estimation only)_


  * **PHYSICAL TRAITS** _:_ _Ethnically consistent red hair, believed to be of a generally dark hue. Eyes reportedly lighter in colour, golden or brown. Ethnically consistent olive toned skin._


  * **STATUS** _ **:** Presumed alive. Inheriting heir of the Union Republic of Syhvva (Formerly the Free Court of Syhvva)_


  * **MONETARY BOND** _: **50,000,000,000 |MK|** _; 50 Billion Standard Marks* (__ _ _*It should be noted that monetary bond may vary depending on current exchange rates.)__


  * **NOTES** _: Inheriting heir of the Union Republic of Syhvva. Wanted for reasons of suspicion of collaboration with terrorist groups such as the Valkmaid Van terrorist group and Eastern System Boilers. Monetary Bond or ‘bounty’ is current as of the 1 st of Janwir, 4509 CC. The subject is presumed to be alive as of this date also, though this may not necessarily be the case. It should be noted that the photo provided was current as of 4498CC, and thus is considered defunct but potentially useful in locating and apprehending the target. Fingerprints, blood type and other DNA samples are unavailable. Height is projected only, weight is unknown. Age is determined considering age at the time of disappearance._



* * *

Matthias was nothing short of despondent upon looking further into the profile. For a person bearing the greatest bounty the galaxy had ever seen, the information was completely useless. One would hope that further investigation might have been conducted by the Union so that there was at least the possibility of them being captured. Really, considering what was available, it wasn’t surprising that the last solid lead anyone had had was over 7 years ago. Trying to force his thoughts into a more positive light, he turned his attention from the negatives to the positives. True, though there was nothing about what the guy’s current location may be, the physical description available was fairly decent. Obviously, being Syhvvanian, he would have red hair and fiery eyes, and a darker complexion than the average Rywanese person like him could ever hope for. Though his weight was a complete mystery, the height was probably fairly accurate. They had his age, and Matthias, as someone who never really delved into these particular profiles before, was surprised to learn this guy wasn’t much younger than him.

Other than these, there were few tips on what the guy might look like. Matthias, however, was a trained and effective bounty hunter, and knew how people worked. So, he would probably be able to add in a few likely details. He retrieved a pen from his desk and tore a sheet of paper from one of Alfred’s notebooks (which he used primarily for doodling) and began to think.

First, the basic elements of his appearance. Eyes, skin, hair. His skin likely wouldn’t have changed much; perhaps lightened or darkened a few shades depending on where he could get shelter. So, the skin would be the same. Eyes were a slightly different matter. Though in the description, it was said that this would-be king’s eyes were supposed to be gold or brown, it was obvious this was just a guess based on the image available. No matter how hard he squinted at it, Matthias himself could not glean a better estimate. The photo was more than ten years old, and not of an excellent quality. One would think that a planet that had once been as wealthy and proud as Syhvva would have put more effort into capturing the guise of their own royal family. The whole thing about the eyes wasn’t helpful, though, considering that about 90% of Syhvvanians had either gold or brown eyes. Mentally, he disregarded the eyes as a compelling factor. So long as they weren’t green, blue or grey, he supposed.

He moved on to perhaps the most important physical feature; the kid’s hair. Matthias wasn’t as stupid as so many people believed. If there was one thing he understood, it was people. The reason, he believed, that so many people would have failed to catch these thrifty royals, was that they took the facts available at face-value. First of all, and quite obviously, there was no way in hell that this guy’s hair was still red. Syhvvanian hair was one of a kind, and this guy must have known that. Nope, his head was either shaved or dyed. Matthias made a note of that.

One of the major unknowns was the guy’s weight. This, for someone who understood even the basics of what had happened, was easy to determine. Firstly, it was a capital offence to assist any of these people, and though many may have relaxed concerning this nowadays, back when the expansion into the Free Courts was happening, it had been a genuine threat. In truth, it seemed more relaxed now only because they had no idea where these royals were, and, as a result, no way of finding out the identities of anyone giving them aid. Back in the day, according to Matthias’ own foggy memory, and some stories from his parents, capital punishment was used frequently, particularly in areas surrounding the Free Courts. Many would have been too afraid to risk it, no matter how fond of the Free Courts they were. In honesty, there weren’t too many of those people even to begin with; Syhvva, Daerna and Fynkn’s best allies were each other, and they seemed to not have seen much use for any others. This greatly cut down the probability of them getting help immediately upon leaving their planet.

This kid, and the younger sibling he would have been tugging along with him, likely would have been told to get as far away as possible. The further you got from the actual courts, however, less and less people tended to sympathise with them. Meaning, there would have been less aid available. Assuming that this continued much the same for however long it had been since then, it was reasonable to presume that the older Vargas, as a result, would have had a low weight, which may have continued into his later years. It was likely as time passed that they gained more independence, of course, but most employment stations with jobs of substantial pay nowadays did extensive background checks (to prevent crime, of course), and a kid like this wouldn’t hold up for even a second. So, safe to assume, the kid was skinny, or at least on the skinny side. There was, of course, the possibility that they had received immediate aid and had been living well since, but it was, statistically, far less likely.

Matthias made a note of that too. Being poor, the kid would be dressed in more ragged clothing, as well. Considering the dangers, the guy would be drawn to areas far from the planet, or places with potential sympathisers. Sitting back, Matthias stared at the list he had compiled so far.

_Hair likely dyed another colour, skinny or scrawny, travelling with younger brother likely, ragged clothes, areas far from planet or with sympathisers._

Grinning in triumph at his success in slimming down their search, Matthias set off in search of Alfred so he could draw a rough sketch.

* * *

_Szwicza District,_  
_Bibesti, Rela_  
_18 th Janwir_

Lovino nursed his side as he made his way back to their shared apartment. He cursed, loudly, which caused some people passing by to momentarily turn their attention to him. Upon noting the sharp weapon clipped to his belt, and the blood which had transferred from his side to his hand, however, they immediately resumed their own business.

_Fuckers_ , he thought furiously, glancing from side to side before hurriedly crossing the narrow alleyway. It was still daylight, true, but the bastard’s friends might still be following him, and he didn’t want to risk endangering Feliciano because he was too slow on the uptake. Even thinking of it now made him grit his teeth. Now wasn’t the time to let his emotions take hold, however, he needed to get home, and untracked at that. From what he could see and sense, he wasn’t being followed, but his senses felt fuzzy, and he was starting to slip in concentration a little. Shit, he _needed_ to get home _now_. Screw this, he thought, leaning against a brick wall, as he pushed his hand harder into his side. The pressure was good, but pressure also made the deep wound in his side sting and burn. He closed his eyes, drawing in slow, deep breaths. If there was anyone following him, he’d lead them straight to his home and family, and knowing these kinds, they would take vicious advantage of this. He couldn’t let them get to Feli.

He opened his eyes, briefly scanned the area, and closed them again, leaning back against the wall. _Where are you bastards_ …

The back of his neck crawled, and he opened his eyes once more, fixing them on a narrow, dark space a few good metres away from him. They were following him, and they were there, he was certain. Evidently, his trackers had ascertained that he knew they were there, as there was brief rustling, before one of the cronies that he’d encountered earlier burst out of the space, lunging at him with a blade drawn and angled toward his face.

Lovino was just able to throw himself to the ground in time. Bad enough that this guy was the faster of the two bastards that had attacked him, but he was injured already, and his wound was starting to seriously affect his movements.

To put things more simply: shit.

He threw himself to his feet, even as his side screamed in protest, skittering to his attacker’s left, which he had deduced was his weaker side. He dodged another strike, though the blade grazed his arm this time. Upon noticing this, his attacker grinned, immediately swiping at him with his knife. Lovino was beginning to get tired, his vision blurring slightly.

“Aw, c’mon,” the man crooned, “if you can’t fight no longer, let me have a turn at ya, and I’ll let ya go. You’re a pretty thing anyways.”

Lovino lashed out at him, foot striking him in the shin. It might not have had much of an effect, had he not chosen to wear his pair of stolen, metal-toed boots today. The man yelped, and he took the chance to dart away from him, staggering nearer the end of the alley. He ducked into a tiny slipway, clutching his side once more. The man gave chase, of course, hurtling down after him. Lovino was just barely able to turn to look at him. Darkness was creeping in on the corners of his vision, and his side was throbbing with an intense, persistent pain.

_Really?_ He thought. _After everything, this is how I’m going to die? How sad_.

The man had him pinned against the wall, muttering all sorts of disgusting threats in his ear. Honestly, if this man did choose to violate him before killing him, there wouldn’t even be anyone around to find his body and try to report it. He’d become another one of those nameless corpses that horrified Feli so much. Without meaning to, his mind drifted to the recent memories of those bloated, stinking corpses lining the narrow alleys of the Szwicza District, and he proceeded to envision himself as one.

_NO._

He thrust out his hands, scrabbling for the man’s throat. He could feel the odd, bubbling feeling in his upper chest even as he moved; could feel the intense sensation, like pins and needles, spreading across his hands as they locked around his attacker’s neck. For a single, silent moment, there was nothing. But even as panic rose within him, the pins and needles dissipated, his body having finally adapted after remaining dormant so long, and the man began to scream. He clawed at Lovino’s hands, desperation surging in his face. Lovino stared him down, keeping his hands stiff and unrelenting. The man began to cease his struggles, blood gurgling from his mouth as a thick, strong smell wafted from him. Recognising that his work was done, he released him, stepping back to lean against the wall as the man’s body fell heavy and lifeless to the ground.

_No-one will want to ask how that one died_ , he thought, wiping his hands on his already grimy trousers. His vision, though momentarily cleared by the adrenaline rush which the act had brought with it, was rapidly clouding again, and he refused to be caught near a crime scene like this. He gripped his side again, and made his way to the main street again, moving as fast as he could.

* * *

In hindsight, he had no clue how he made it home. In truth, he couldn’t remember it. His last memories before awakening consisted of that man and the horrific way his eyes had rolled up into his head as he died. From then on, he remembered nothing. Not leaving or arriving at the reception of their block building, as Feliciano later told him, not stumbling across Sadik, who proceeded to panic and drag him upstairs to Feliciano, and not Feliciano’s subsequent panicking and desperate treating of the wound in his side.

No, he had to be told this by a tired but relieved Feli, who kept reaching out and running his hands through Lovino’s hair, as if afraid he would disappear on him.

Lovino blinked up at him blearily, nodding slightly as Feli finished his tale. As he did, Feliciano’s expression hardened, and his hand moved from Lovino’s head to his shoulder.

“Lovi,” he said, voice sterner than Lovino recalled ever having heard it, “no more fighting, okay? I’ll do something, find a job, but you will not put yourself in danger again.” As he began to voice his protests, Feli simply shook his head, frowning.  
“You got _stabbed;_ you could have died! What if you had, huh?” Feli maintained his glare for only a moment before his expression faltered and tears began to roll down his face. Stunned, Lovino could do little more than stare at his brother like an idiot.

“I can’t bear the thought of you leaving, okay? I’d be all alone. I need you, brother, I don’t know what I’d do.” He began sniffing, wiping at the tears on his face. Abruptly, Lovino felt incredibly selfish. He’d been so absorbed in having a way of making easy money that he hadn’t considered what his brother’s view on it was.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to touch his brother’s arm. He’d been expected for Feliciano to simply pull away, but he leaned toward him instead, removing his hand from his eyes to look at him. “Okay,” Lovino said, closing his eyes as he did, “I’ll stop fist fighting, then, because I don’t want you to be left alone either.” Feliciano smiled weakly, squeezing Lovino’s arm before rising to walk to the kitchen. Lovino frowned as something rose to mind.

“Feli,” he called cautiously, “How did you stop my side from bleeding?”

Feli stopped, turning to face him, looking surprised. Without a word, he approached Lovino again and leant down so he could hear him.

“I had to get Sadik to help me cauterise it,” he murmured, “I hope we did it right.”

Lovino nodded, feeling ill. Feliciano smiled and stood, wandering off to their kitchen again.

Flinching as the pain once more shot up his side, he carefully drew away the blankets to examine his bandages. There was blood near-soaking the bandages wrapped around him. He replaced his shirt and the blankets so Feli wouldn’t see. Of all things, cauterisation. Probably the only thing which would do nothing to heal his wound. Lovino sighed. He’d tell Feli to get a haemostatic agent tomorrow. He could mask it under the guise of having it in case of emergencies. Until then, as they had no morphine, he would have to live with the pain and blood.

* * *

_Mauriti Settlement,_  
_Aralos,_  
_18 th Janwir_

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure how to feel about her. Feliks had shown up a few days ago with this Aralosian girl beside him and promptly introduced her to everyone. Gilbert was uncomfortable with her at worst, and indifferent at best. But he seemed like almost the only one. Alfred was endlessly grateful to her for solving his issue with the figs and ale, and even now seemed a little in awe of her. Ivan seemed to enjoy her company, as did Berwald, and Louise seemed to be very happy simply to have another girl around for once.

Matthias seemed amused by how she constantly bantered with the others and seemed to consider her as a resident badass. Even Gilbert’s closest friends, Antonio and Francis, seemed to like spending time with her, and Antonio found it fascinating to learn what she knew about ship structure from scavenging.

As for Feliks, the person who had brought her here in the first place? God, was that fucker head-over-heels. It honestly worried Gilbert, and he and Feliks rarely got along well. If there was one thing he knew about his Pyndaphian friend, it was that he normally dismissed romance of any kind in favour of throwing himself into his work. The fact that he was taking such an interest was concerning. Gilbert couldn’t help but watch how they interacted with each other. And he was no expert, but it was slightly comforting to see that Tori didn’t seem to reject any of Feliks’ subtle advances. Maybe the blond wouldn’t get heartbroken, then, by her dismissing him.

Though, and this was what worried him, he might get heartbroken anyway. They had to leave the desert planet eventually; they couldn’t just stay indefinitely. Even for seasoned undesirables like themselves, Aralos was a bit rough, and they weren’t finding much so far. Yes, through Matthias’ honestly excellent people skills, and Alfred’s decent drawing ability, they had a rough idea of what one of their targets may look like. Of course, Matthias had leapt directly toward the most sought-after of the five royals, though Gilbert couldn’t blame him for it. That amount of money, offered for only one person, not even both of the Syhvvanians, was ridiculous. But, as Matthias always said, he enjoyed the ridiculous. They’d gone all around Mauriti, and Francis had even taken a day trip to the records office, way over past the Rykkné Plains, to check their patchy census records. The last Syhvvanian person to live on Aralos had died close to 80 years ago, and though they’d reported a scattering of Daernics and a handful of Fynknians among their colourful population, the likelihood that any of them was something special, or even knew something useful, was microscopic. Having completed their search here, at least, they would soon be outbound. And that meant Feliks leaving his little girlfriend behind.

But that was where the problems arose. Either they left her here and dealt with whatever emotions that might instil in Feliks, or she came with them, which could mean a whole range of other problems. This girl had spent many years around the Garvich race; there was a chance that she had adopted their sense of smell, or at least knew how to recognise people like Gilbert. The implications of that horrified him. Feliks knew about his family because it was something that had come up a lot on his origin planet of Pyndaph. Louise knew, because of course, she was his sister, and loved him regardless, though they were really only half-siblings. Feliks didn’t judge him - he didn’t care - and even kept such a secret for him. But all of the others; Francis, Antonio, Ivan, Berwald, Matthias and Alfred; they were oblivious, and he wished to keep it that way. He knew that Antonio was from Jhobras, and views there differed. Ivan was from Ellmin, a planet near Fynkn, and thus may have held more conservative views. However, it was Francis, Berwald, Matthias and Alfred whose reactions he feared the most. All were from Rywan, and the planet had many conservative values that were held by many of the population.

Said conservative values meant that they could see him as deserving of execution. Maybe, if they were particularly forward-thinking, this meant that they would consider him deserving of a quick one. Many of those like him on Rywan did not get such mercy. The thought of what they would do, what they would say….

He shook himself from his thoughts. If there was something else he knew, it was that there were few situations that came to mind in which he would actually have to tell them, and moreover, they’d known him for years, surely they would still accept him?

Hopefully, time would not tell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 3/8/18: Added a few words/phrases to increase clarity, spelling and grammar checked.


	6. The Choices That Amend Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am finally back with another chapter! Sorry again for the wait, but life always seems to get in the way right when I'm all inspired. Hope you enjoy, and please, please, please, tell me what you think. You have no idea how inspired I get by reading feedback!
> 
> Warnings: Implied (past) pedophilia (I just wanted to give fair warning, so as to not make people uncomfortable)

_Mauriti Settlement,_   
_Aralos_   
_23 rd Janwir_

The prospect had left her speechless for a moment, in all honesty. Not for its contents, but that it had been so readily offered – that it had been offered in the first place was in itself shocking – and though she attempted to keep her expression neutral and answer with a simple _I’ll need some time to think about it_ , she had to try hard to not to entrap Feliks in a bone-crushing hug. Honestly, that damn Pyndaphian had turned her life upside down since they’d first met, but not in the negative way that so many had previously. No, that lovable asshole was actively making her life better, and judging the smug smile he bore every time he saw her, he knew it too.

But this, this was something she had never been offered before. This was something that completely overshot being nice and friendly, that completely overshot a simple gesture. This was an invitation, and he was inviting her to be free. Of all the things she’d expected him to say when he rocked up at her house this morning, it was not for him to offer that she come with his friends, and join them in their many exploits and inter-galactic travels. It was insane that he so flippantly offer such a thing, and she’d told him as much. But, as he’d said, he’d talked to the others, and they were all cool with it. Well, the way he’d said ‘all’ made her believe that there had been at least one dissenter. She considered herself relatively intelligent, but even an idiot could realise that it was Gilbert that he was talking about.

They had never argued. Hell, she’d witnessed more arguments between Gilbert and Feliks than she had had total conversations with the pale Incandan, but he didn’t seem to like her much. The others seemed fine. Ivan and Berwald were intimidating from a distance but much nicer up close and Francis was overly flirtatious, but in a completely playful way. Alfred was just a fun guy, as was Antonio, and Matthias, as the leader of their little gang, was well adjusted to such a role. Louise lived her life much how Tori lived hers, and they got along well. The blond had even said that she was happy to have another girl around.

Gilbert, on the other hand, treated her with indifference at best, dislike and distrust at worst. And she understood, yes, that he might just be a little defensive and possessive of his friends. She knew that the nine of them had lived and worked together for a while – some of them for several years now – and that they trusted one another implicitly. If it were her, she probably wouldn’t trust some newcomer from a rough planet with dubious origins, so she could relate as to why he didn’t trust her. But if it were her, she would give the person the chance to at least earn her trust before dismissing them. Gilbert had offered her no such chance, and she couldn’t figure out why. She’d done nothing to insult or offend him, as far as she knew, and also hadn’t infringed that much on his friends. But he seemed to almost hate her. She was yet to ask Feliks about this, as Gilbert was his friend and she didn’t want to cause anything bad to happen between them, but she was almost dying to know at the same time. Well, she supposed, not everyone had to like her. She was surprised that only one of them argued with her joining, actually. She had never considered herself an overly charismatic person.

But, ignoring Gilbert’s opposition, Tori had to think about actually joining them in the first place. Yes, it was the sort of opportunity that she had been awaiting for years, but at the same time, were these the sorts of circumstances she wanted to place herself in? The others were all good people, but they were bounty hunters. Having seen a great deal of people being sold and used over the years, and occasionally having suffered that same treatment, she was reluctant and unsure if she could bring herself to do the same. A part of her was saying that it was sensible to have to consider such an offer, the other part of her was saying that this may be her only opportunity to get out of Aralos. But there was a lot to consider. Would she be expected to stay with them forever, or could she leave whenever she wanted? She really should have had a longer conversation with Feliks about this.

Speaking of Feliks, he was one of the major factors that would probably determine her decision. Honestly, half the time she didn’t know what to do about that boy. He was a bounty hunter, yes, and currently the one who held the key to her freedom. He was…interesting. Smarter than he let on, and quite ruthlessly cunning when he wanted to be. He’d admitted that he’d frequently been a crossdresser for some of their missions, though she’d needed pictures to understand how he had passed as a girl (and afterwards, yes, she’d understood – he looked good in a dress).

He was a great deal kinder than many of the people she’d met, and seemed quite genuine. The others, as well, were kind, and open. And she didn’t have to be afraid of them taking some sort of advantage of her, considering that Louise was already a part of their group, and was completely untouched. Tori believed she’d already managed to mildly intimidate some of them, so that wasn’t a problem. And Alfred had told her that they had had other members who had come and gone over time, so they weren’t like some insane cult that would insist she stay; she would still have some personal freedom. But in addition to the pros, there were also countless cons.

She exhaled slowly as she finally came to her decision.

* * *

_Bibesti,_   
_Rela,_   
_23 rd Janwir_

Sadik drummed his fingers on the bench as he watched Lovino force down the liquid. _Statica_ was an agent that stopped bleeding, both internal and external, and though it was endlessly effective, it was notoriously disgusting. The producers didn’t bother to try to alter the flavour at all for the common version. Sure, there was probably a form that tasted like fairy shit, but it was probably also very expensive, and only for people who were almost uselessly rich. You know, the sorts of people who probably wouldn’t ever use it.

Judging by the look on the younger man’s face, and the way his stomach seemed to be tensing and relaxing, this _Statica_ was the kind that tasted like old bile. The liquid had the same consistency as oil in addition to this, so it really was just a _delight_.

“If you puke on my carpet, I’ll make sure you need a bathtub full of that oily shit.” Sadik warned. Though he probably wouldn’t follow through with that threat. Probably. He was very fond of that carpet.

Lovino glared at him, as usual, wiping his mouth, whilst (impressively) keeping all the _Statica_ in his actual stomach. Feliciano had begun to worry about both their questionable cauterisation job, and potential internal bleeding, so the younger of the two scrawny siblings had strode off that morning, stolen a reasonably affluent man’s coin purse and bought a few bottles, in addition to some strong spices for Sadik, who was letting them use his apartment while Lovino was still out of it. He honestly didn’t mind that much – these kids were some of the only non-criminal company he got nowadays. They’d been away for the majority of the last year – spending time on Incanda or some shit like that, with only infrequent and short visits back to their apartment down the hall from his. Though he wouldn’t admit it even on his deathbed, he’d kinda missed them. Feliciano was endlessly nice and polite, always offering him food and gifts even when it was clear he couldn’t easily afford to give them away (Sadik always refused, he was a greedy man, but not that greedy), and Lovino was one of the most insufferably rude, hostile, profanity-laced people he’d ever met.

Sadik liked both of them.

When he’d seen the familiar set of dark hair, tanned skin and bright eyes reappear in the lobby, about a week ago now, he’d honestly been very happy to see them back on Rela, though at the time he’d offered little more than a small wave. He wasn’t a man of excess, in any circumstances. And they knew they were still relatively welcome at his door.

Lovino rubbed his side, pulling his shirt halfway up to examine the bandage underneath. Sadik looked away, though not for any weakness when it came to blood. He’d seen plenty of that in his life, living on the lower rung of society as he did. He cursed the slight twisting in his stomach. He’d done time for this in the past, and knew a lot better now than to even tempt himself. Even looking was bad. Looking led to thinking, thinking led to acting, and he never wanted to act on it again. He’d originally kept that particular section of his life from Lovino and Feliciano, but had decided it was better to just tell them. Lucky for him, they hadn’t decided to just ignore him forever, and though they had been noticeably more awkward around him for a while, they’d cooled down since. But his movement was noticeable. Lovino looked up, noted his averted gaze, and dropped his shirt silently, leaning back against the wall.

Sadik stood when Feliciano entered the room, carrying the pot of tea he had just been brewing, gently easing the tension without knowing it. He poured all three of them tea – a black ginger brew from Pyndaph – and they sat in silence, enjoying it.

It was moments like these that Sadik truly noticed how _‘otherly’_ the brothers could be sometimes. They held knowledge of the customs and cultures of many different planets – mostly because they had been to them – but seemed to hold no real set of cultural values themselves. Even their ethnicity was questionable. For their skin and hair, Sadik would say Jhobrasian, or that they were from the northern regions of Nyma like he himself was, but they had little knowledge of either. Their accents were ambiguous and so mixed that any original enunciations were indistinguishable. He often put these things out of his mind. After all, people nowadays didn’t always subscribe to the culture matching their ethnicity or race, or any culture at all, but they were still unusual.

Not in a bad way, just in a curious one.

* * *

Lovino sighed as he shifted slightly on his temporary bedding. Staying in Sadik’s apartment was a rare occurrence, but for now he was grateful that the gruff Nymian man was being so accommodating. He would consider him a friend, but he respected his own privacy. Lovino could understand that, and tried to never infringe on that privacy. Sadik was a weird neighbour who they didn’t see that frequently, but they knew he would probably help them hide a body or kill someone, if only for something to do. The incident earlier had made him a little uncomfortable, though he knew Sadik didn’t mean it. Lovino was 19, but he looked younger, due to both genetics and almost lifelong malnutrition, and though Feliciano was younger than Lovino, there was something about Feli that didn’t spark that same sort of interest. Lovino could handle it, as Sadik was always honest about it, and had never, ever tried anything. If he had, things might have been different.

He put it out of his head, not wanting to consider Sadik’s past and current problems. He turned his attention toward the other issue hanging in his mind right now. Feliciano.

Feli and Sadik had tried to cauterise his wound about five days ago, with (not that they knew) little success. His biology wouldn’t allow his flesh to blacken and burn, and he had continued to bleed (though at a much slower rate) since. His wound would close, yes, and the bleeding would finally stop now he had forced that disgusting tonic down his throat, but there would be no burn mark. A scar, obviously, but no burn marks, and even for a botched cauterisation that was weird. Feliciano, being the anxious creature that he was, would want to be continually checking his wound, and he was bound to notice.

It made his heart hammer to think about it, but there was no other option. He could always try to avoid that inevitable confrontation, but he knew it was coming. He’d felt it closing in on him for weeks. He had to try to explain everything, and why he’d hidden it from him.

Lovino was normally a composed person, and very little could make him react strongly in a way other than anger. That was just how he was. But tonight, thinking about having to unload the truth onto his unsuspecting brother, Lovino brought his arms to his face and cried.

* * *

_Mauriti Settlement,_   
_Aralos_   
_24th Janwir_

Feliks gave Antonio a thumbs-up to indicate that the bottom panel had been resealed. Antonio returned the gesture, grinning amiably. Feliks’ joints sighed in relief as he finally slid down from his cramped position between the bottom of the ship and the crossbeams from one of the ‘legs’ holding it up. He scooted down the thick metal strip and let himself slide off the edge, landing on the ground with only a minor stumble. His landing stirred up some of the dry, red dust covering the ground, and he merely sighed in dissatisfaction as it settled in the creases on the edges of his pants again. He would be more than happy to never see this damned desert ruin ever again. And it looked like he would get his wish. They were finally leaving. After 10 days of hot winds, bitter and unpleasant (for the most part) locals, near misses with flat-backed snakes lurking in the sparse dry grasses nearby, and red dust finding its way into every crevice of their bodies, they were leaving Aralos behind.

This would have made Feliks jump for joy, were it not for one thing. Tori was yet to give him an answer about whether she was coming with them or not. If she refused, then okay, and if she accepted, then fuck yeah, but her silence so far was making him nervous. He liked her a lot, and was desperately hoping she chose to join them, but he would respect her decision, whatever it was.

Louise, who had been fixing a minor problem in the engine, wiped black grease from her hair as she yelled that the ship was good to go. Alfred, excitable as always, whooped with joy and sprinted up the entryway. Ivan rolled his eyes and followed, having finished loading on some of the goods they’d picked up in the city centre. Gilbert, who had emerged from the ship for the first time since they got here, looked around and shook his head, clearly recognising that he had not missed anything by staying inside. He helped Berwald up and into the ship, the pair disappearing quickly.

Matthias, who had been making final checks on the ship, met his gaze. He shrugged, looking almost apologetic, jerking his head toward the ship as if to say ‘sorry, but we do need to go’. Feliks sighed. He knew it was kinda a long shot anyway. He was halfway up the entryway when he heard it.

“If you close that thing I will hijack your fucking landing gear!”

Feliks stilled, whirling around. When he saw who was running at him at top speed, he didn’t even try to hide the smile that spread across his face, and he shuffled up the closing entryway to offer the wild brunette girl a hand. Tori had to jump to grab a hold of his hand, and hurriedly slither inside before the doors closed around her torso. She landed gracelessly on top of him, with an equally ungainly ‘oomph’ noise.

And Feliks found himself on a ship rapidly escaping Aralos holding the small hand of one of the most remarkable people he’d ever met, whose elbows were digging rather painfully into his ribs. Tori grinned at him, sitting up to throw her arms around him in a proper hug, before exclaiming,

“Come on, you guys are my best option!”

And he could do little more than laugh and hug her back. Matthias, summoned by the noise, spotted her and punched the air with victory as the pair helped each other stagger to their feet. His loud yelling attracted all of the others, who reacted similarly. For now, it was easy to ignore the potential difficulties Tori might have in such a different environment. For now, it was easy to ignore the strained look Gilbert sent Tori, not happy and jubilant like the others. For now, Feliks would focus on the fact that Tori had chosen them. Right now, that was enough.


	7. The Dangers We Must Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be getting better at this. Yes, another chapter, just a few days after the last. For once, there is no three-month gap! I've recently been on a massive writing binge, so I've been churning out chapters all week onto my computer (the word doc for this full story is now over 100 pages long XD)  
> I did get a review over on Fanfiction.com, where this is also posted, that keeping track of all the storylines is difficult, so from now on, I will briefly summarise where the characters are and what has happened recently. I just don't want to confuse anybody!
> 
> RECAP:   
> Tori has joined the bounty hunters, and Gilbert is uncomfortable with her doing so (for unknown reasons). They have now left Aralos.  
> Lukas and Emilia are still on Aralos, and have entered a rich city called Nakuuria which has a bizarre king.  
> Lovino and Feliciano remain on Rela, and Lovino is injured, having been stabbed in the stomach.  
> The rebels had left Aralos, and are now back at their base on Nyma
> 
> WARNINGS: Implied paedophilia (two chapters in a row, yes), mentions of child marriage, rape and child murder
> 
> Also, if you want a good grasp on what the 'forest' on Nyma looks like, google 'dragon's blood tree' and just imagine them a lot larger, and in pretty much the same climate. 
> 
> Character Names:  
> Aija: Female Latvia  
> Romeo: Seborga  
> Kari: Svalbard (an OC of mine, practically just femNorway though)
> 
> I think that's everything? Anyway, enjoy!

_Nakuuria,_  
Aralos,  
19th Janwir

It could have been the differences between the climate. After all, Fynkn was arctic and snow to the core, and as long as it had been, Nakuuria was likely the hottest place they’d stayed. It could have been the food – unusual and varied, half the time he had no clue what he was eating. It could have been the strange language that tumbled from the lips of everyone around him, not a single word registering in his mind. It could have been the pressures of remembering that he was supposed to be named ‘Adem’ – when it was only the two of them, it didn’t matter so much, but being around people now, there was pressure.

But what set his thoughts flurried, what made every hair on the back of his neck stand up, what made his stomach clench with greater discomfort every time he saw the bearded, robed man, was not the land, or the culture, or the food.

It was Vaek.

Since day one, the guard who had granted them entry to this strange city had been lingering, shooting Lukas furtive glances and muttering in what sounded like Jhobrasian. He had adopted a pained, worried look every time he saw Emilia, and it frightened Lukas more than he would ever, ever admit. Whenever he attempted to confront the guard, however, he just drew himself up, forced a smile, and made some excuse that sent him scurrying in the opposite direction. Lukas was really beginning to get sick of it. The king already unnerved him, but Vaek’s odd display was constantly putting him on edge. Something kept troubling him, it burned in his mind. He had heard but rumours about Nakuuria, but there were a few that had remained prevalent. But he couldn’t quite recall it. It was endlessly frustrating, and he was starting to lose sleep over it. They had only been here for three days, it was true, and Lukas was split on whether they should stay or not. Though he would leave immediately if he sensed any threat to himself or his sister, they were comfortable here, not to mention that they were being well-fed for the first time in a long time. But Vaek’s odd behaviour…

The guard had been dodging him since they arrived, but judging how he had acted when he’d first met Lukas, there was one sure-fire way to get him to at least pay attention.

* * *

 

_The Base of Resistance Operations,_  
Unknown Location on Nyma  
24th Janwir

“And you’re sure that the pirates have her?”

Aija nodded, tears rolling down her face. The two of them had always been close, so Abel knew that she must have been destroyed by the news. He cursed softly. Matthew, who had been standing near the door, moved closer to the mousy-haired girl and put his arm around her shoulders. She sniffed, burying her face into his chest. Matthew had always been better at the ‘comfort’ part of this. Abel was there to accept the news and tell their superiors with a stoic expression while mentally formulating a plan. Tino’s expression was pure concern, but he didn’t move. He was dressed, as he almost always was, in his sniper’s outfit. He was helping hijack a convoy over in the Gafadari Grasslands later that night, and liked to be extremely prepared.

Matthew and Abel made eye contact. This was bad. As a resistance member, the pirates who had captured their colleague would be well paid. As a woman of Daerna, any bounty hanging over her head would be doubled. And it wasn’t as though these pirates had captured some lowlife grunt, either. Elizabeta had been with the Resistance since before the expansion, and was one of their highest-ranking officers, despite her young age (she was only 25), and practically contained their entire database inside her head. Elizabeta was tough, make no mistake – she could outlast torture and interrogation longer than the rest of them put together, but she still wasn’t invincible, and considering some of the new tactics that Abel had heard of the Union using, she may just give up something vital. Not that he didn’t have faith in her. He had plenty. He just didn’t put it past the Union to use some despotic form of manipulation to get what they wanted.

And once they had what they wanted…

Well, Elizabeta would lose her head, just like all their friends which had been captured before her. They couldn’t afford either the loss of information or her execution. That left them with only one choice: steal her back from the pirates before they could get her to Saijani loyalists. Difficult, but not impossible. Abel knew the pirates, and he knew their ship, as did Matthew. They only needed permission.

Considering what he would say even as he exited the tent, Abel set out in search of Yao.

* * *

 

Nyma wasn’t a bad planet – far from the worst – but Abel was a man of Rywan, which had some semblance of cold. Nyma was and would remain a prime spot to get a flawless tan. The resistance had at least made note of the fact that, as they had fair-skinned members from places like Fynkn and Rywan, they should not build a base in the middle of some distance desert. Instead, at least, they’d had the decency to settle in Draak-Zafi Forra. When translated from Nymian to Common Standard, it meant ‘Dragon-Tree Forest’. And a dragon-tree forest it was. The trees were unlike any other Abel had ever seen, with massive trunks that stretched up anywhere from 5 to 50 metres. Their branches were devoid of leaves, flowering and bursting with them only at the tops, which were arranged almost perfectly flat. The makeup of the plants gave them a great deal of room, but completely concealed them from above. So any Saijani ships trying to locate them would have a lovely view of the treetops, and nothing else. The ground was rocky and uneven, a great deal of the irregularities born of the massive, twisting roots of the trees. Despite this, large sections of free and relatively flat land were widespread, though many were now occupied with tents and shipping containers which had been converted into living spaces.

Abel navigated his way over the large roots of one of the trees, lifting a hand to wave at 15-year-old Romeo Bianchi, a Syhvvanian who appeared to doing target practice with the black sparrows that had a penchant for getting into their fresh food stores. Romeo waved back, taking aim at one such bird with an old crossbow, an act that Abel could only condone.

He slid down a small dirt cliff, formed when one of the magnificent trees had been brought down by an extreme thunderstorm and some misplaced lightning, approaching the large structure in the middle of the opening, one of the few permanent structures at their base. He craned his neck, trying to spot their leader. He noted him by one of the tables outside, bent low over a map. A familiar, pale-haired figure stood beside him. Abel nodded to her as he approached.

“Kari”. The Fynknian looked up and nodded in return.

“Abel”. She turned to Yao. “We can continue this later, I presume?”

Yao murmured in agreement, and she stood, marching from the clearing. Kari wasn’t the most pleasant woman in the resistance, but she had skill, and more drive than half of them put together. And, she got on quite well with Elizabeta. Abel hoped not to be in the room when she found out what had happened to her Daernic friend. He winced at the very thought. Yao straightened, looking at him expectantly. Yao had been the leader of the resistance for several years now, and to many was a bit of an enigma figure. He didn’t look that old in the face, but his hair was shot through with white streaks, and refused to tell anyone his actual age. He also wore gloves all the time, and Abel had never actually seen his hands. Despite these and his numerous other oddities, everyone still showed him the utmost respect. He also had no doubt that Yao knew exactly what he was here for.

“Elizabeta.” He said by way of explanation. Yao nodded, not looking even a little surprised.

“I knew you would be coming around to ask me.” Yao sighed, rubbing his forehead between his eyes, “You want to launch a rescue mission to save her.”

“Yes, I do.” Abel said, correcting himself after a moment “We do.”

Yao sighed, “I am old enough to know about the spontaneity of young men and women.” He tilted his head slightly, “Matthew is likely already gathering supplies.” Abel wished he could argue that, but he knew Matt well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave a friend in peril.

“Yes, he probably is.”

Yao studied him a moment, before turning his eyes back to the map in front of him.

“Volunteers only. You can take a stealth ship, and five others, total. Be careful, and don’t try to be heroic. Save her if you can, but if the risk is too great, you will just have to let her be taken. If you see an opportunity and you are confident it will succeed, capitalise on it, but only if you are confident.” He turned again, reinstating eye contact. “Good luck, and be sure to keep us updated.”

Abel bowed slightly. “Thank you, General. I swear, we will save her.”

“I hope you do,” Yao said, “she is important to this cause.”

Abel nodded again and took his leave, watched all the while by a pair of sad, old brown eyes, which held only the hope that at least one of them would return alive.

* * *

 

_Nakkuria,_  
Aralos,  
21st Janwir

It had been almost insultingly easy to get it out of Vaek in the end. Though Lukas was going to give himself credit, instead of attributing it to the man’s weak resolve. All he’d had to do was tell Vaek he needed to talk to him, and lured him into a corner away from prying eyes. After a few minutes of coercing him with both pleading words and by almost jamming his tongue down the guard’s throat, he’d surrendered the information Lukas had so dearly needed. And now he felt only a simmering rage, accompanied with disgust that he had not been able to recall something so important about the man currently sheltering them.

Ugh, the seasonal shifts here must strike fear into the hearts of every young woman in the city.

Mirakh Nakuur: known for founding the richest city on Aralos, actively equalising the levels of wealth among his poorer citizens, being a surprisingly effective diplomat, and for marrying young girls, raping them and having them murdered in order to satisfy his sickening fetishes. He did it four times a year, one for each season, and had been doing it for the past 10 years. 40 girls, between the ages of 11 and 16, who he had defiled and killed, without a flicker of remorse.

How could he have been so stupid? That was why the King always wanted to spend time with his sister. Emilia was 15, and within the King’s preferred age range, according to Vaek, which was why the guard had seemed so worried and concerned about her. He’d been dodging Lukas because they weren’t allowed to say anything to discourage guests from leaving until the king could guilt them into marriage. Lukas had tried to settle Vaek’s fears, assuring him that he would never tell a soul that it was him that warned them, though did give him warning that he intended on leaving with his sister. Vaek had looked legitimately disappointed that Lukas would be leaving, though he did agree that Emilia wasn’t safe here. In order to resolve any of the guard’s misgivings, he’d just continued to kiss him to the point that they would both undoubtedly have mononucleosis in a few weeks’ time.

But now he needed a plan to get out. If he’d only known this before, they could have avoided entering the city entirely. It was one of the aspects of one of his gifts that he cursed. To look inside one’s mind and read it like a book was so useful, and yet could be defeated by something as simple as a language barrier. Vaek’s thoughts, no doubt many of which would have been about Emilia and what she may soon face, were in his native tongue. Lukas spoke Fynknian, Daernic, Syhhvanian, Rywanese, a scattering of the Reycausian Standard, and of course, Common Standard. But he did not speak Jhobrasian. And now he had to save his little sister from a disgusting, snuff-obsessed paedophile who wanted to marry her. Honestly, not what he had expected to have to do when they’d arrived on this barren, desert planet.

He shook his head, leaning against the door. Once he’d managed to disentangle himself from Vaek, he’d come back to his room to think, but not much was coming to mind. They still had the banquet to attend on the 25th. And it was this thought that got his mental cogs whirring. The banquet was supposedly going to be attended by important personnel, both from on and off Aralos. There would be so many people, it would be the ideal time to slip away. That is, if the king didn’t interfere in some way.

* * *

He had seen it coming this time, because though Mirakh Nakuur lived on a planet where Common Standard was a secondary form of communication at best, some of his guards had it as their native tongue, and Lukas could read their intentions from a mile away. So when a trio of them began to follow him, he looked over his shoulder, made eye contact with each, and ran.

They bolted after him, no doubt expecting him to be some easy prey. Lukas had been running his entire life, not to mention he was slimmer and lither than them, and naturally had longer legs. Their shouts followed him as he darted down numerous hallways and passages, weaving among the large effigies and pillars that were dotted everywhere. The exorbitant wealth enjoyed by Nakuur was almost sickening, especially considering how poor some other Aralosians were. Though the Bondevik family had always enjoyed extravagances on Fynkn (obviously, as they _were_ royalty) they always ensured that their people had enough before even thinking of extra luxuries for themselves. But he hardly had the time for the thought to cross his mind. He was flying down a flight of stairs towards the doors that he knew led to the west wing. There, he could find Emilia and warn her. He had to. To let that man even touch her would mean his failure as an older brother. And that was something he would not allow.

* * *

 

_25 th Janwir_

She might as well have been chained, for all the good that her free and unburdened limbs were doing. A braver woman would have fought. A braver woman would have realised. But she was not brave. She was a girl of fifteen who was scared to death. The king’s lecherous stares made everything ten times worse. She was dressed in a gown with a neck sliced so low that she wouldn’t be surprised if her belly button was visible. She was in the middle of a room of strangers who looked at her sideways with almost mocking stares. And now that she knew why, she could understand it completely. How stupid they must think she was, to have fallen so perfectly into his trap. But worse than their stares; or the king’s, worse than her isolation, and what she knew was coming, was his absence. Her brother was not here. The guard, Vaek, seemed very concerned when she asked if he knew where he was. She remembered the stiff answer he’d supplied her with, “likely a cell”. And her subsequent panic. She could use her gifts, but not well, and as the second child, hers would always be weaker than Lukas’ anyway. In the Free Courts, the gifts of the heir were always strongest. If the heir died, then the gifts of the second-born or next in line always strengthened. It was her greatest fear to be separated from her brother, and later find her gifts stronger. She didn’t care about having power equal to his, she cared about having a living, breathing sibling.

The king had declared that he would be marrying her at the beginning of the banquet, then announced that this would act as their engagement party. Emilia had had to leave the room to be physically sick. She had sensed discomfort and worry from her brother in the last few days, but had not questioned it, attributing it to the strange environment.

She broke from her reverie to respond to a well-dressed woman who had asked her name. She was close, so close, to slipping up and saying ‘Emilia Bondevik’ instead of ‘Sinta Agresti’, but caught herself in time. The woman nodded, smirking before turning away, no doubt forgetting her name the moment after she heard it.

She met Vaek’s concerned stare across the room. Her brother was in a cell, but Vaek seemed to like him. _Save him_ , she silently pleaded, _free him_. _Please, he is all I have left in the universe_. Vaek stared.

* * *

 

When he was younger, Middi Ramba had spoken of witches. So frequently he could recite her superstitious tales and all their many contradictions by heart. That they were ugly, that they were beautiful, that they could enrapture you with a look, that they used the blood of infants in complicated spells. One common theme had been that they were seductive and manipulative.

He didn’t think Adem Agresti was a witch. The boy had been manipulative yes, but that was to protect his sister. He didn’t really try to seduce him at all. He had watched the younger boy’s actions so closely that he would have known in a second if he even tried.

He didn’t think Sinta Agresti was a witch. She was young, and sweet, but had attempted neither seduction nor manipulation.

Witches were not real. There were greater terrors to fear, greater evil to oppose. That was what Vaek had told Middi Ramba. Middi had smiled and responded “I know, but sometimes evil is not what we imagine it to be. Something evil can also be beautiful.”

Middi Ramba would have heard the gentle urging that echoed around Vaek’s mind in that moment, and she would not have called Sinta Agresti a witch. For the simple desire to help a sibling was no evil. He did not think Sinta was evil. He did not think Adem was evil.

His king was. Sinta was his prize, and Adem was his prisoner.

* * *

It was the gentle clinking of metal that stirred him from his thoughts. It was a familiar face, crumpled with concern, that alleviated his initial fears. It was the keys twisting in the locks that drove him to his feet.

Vaek didn’t say a word. He nodded, held out a hand for Lukas to shake. He accepted it, but also kissed the guard in gratitude. He pulled away, squeezed his hand, and ran.

* * *

Vaek had already provided him with a large bag, in which the few personal belongings he had were stowed. As he passed through the halls, he gazed upon the riches around him, and extended his hands. Plaques and small statues vanished. Pieces of priceless cutlery, artefacts, even a fine rug, disappeared. He came across the chambers of the king himself, and, buoyed by the loud music continuing below, entered. Gold bands, strings of jewels, hand-mirrors, objects crafted from gold, silver, ivory and jade were transferred from their places to his bag. He collected bags of coins, rubies, diamonds, quartz and so many other precious gems he could not name them all. A small, soft glow drew his attention. A small stone, sitting on the king’s dresser, pale green-gold in colour, and emitting a gentle light. The closer he got, the brighter it grew. Tesilurite. He pocketed that too. By the time the inebriated king would find his way back to his chambers, he would find it thoroughly stripped of his most valuable treasures.

Justice was sweet, and profitable.

* * *

Emilia retired to her bed early, as Vaek had gently bid. Once in her room, she almost cried out upon spotting Lukas. His arms around her were the greatest comfort, but his whispered ‘ _hurry_ ’ had her pulling away from him and zooming around the room she had briefly inhabited, collecting her things (and stealing a few) and throwing them haphazardly inside her bag.

The Jhobrasian guard had set him free, but Lukas didn’t want for Vaek to be punished. It was best that they escape quickly, and quietly.

And an hour later, the Aralosian king’s roar of fury echoed throughout the castle, but was unheard by the two Fynknians, fleeing silently across the desert.


	8. The Lost That We Must Find

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a much shorter chapter than usual, and the format is kinda weird as well, so yeah. The next one is a lot larger, so just be patient. Also, this entire chappie is a flashback, but it is important (sort of).
> 
> RECAP:  
> Tori has joined the Bounty Hunters, who have left Aralos (they will be seen next time, don't worry)  
> Lukas and Emilia have escaped from Nakuuria and are.....???? (who knows ;D)  
> Lovino and Feliciano are still on Rela (yeah, nothing has changed since the last recap)  
> A rescue mission is being launched by the Resistance to save their friend Elizabeta from some pirates, we also met some other resistance fighters, like Kari, Romeo, and their leader, Yao.
> 
> WARNINGS: I shan't give any, because i don't want to spoil, but this chapter's not so bad.
> 
> Also, the future of this story is dark. I'm not saying I am quitting this at all, it's just that, considering some of the future content, the rating may go up.

_Oslaholm, Fynkn_  
_4499CC_  
_(13 YEARS AGO)_

For all her scrubbing, the spot just wouldn’t come out. She had no clue what it was – paint? Tar? Something more sinister? Perhaps Queen Astrid was some sort of a secret assassin, who operated and disposed of the incriminating evidence in her royal chambers. The thought of the gentle but fierce queen committing murder was strange, unless in defence of her children of course, though it certainly helped to drive away some of the monotony of the task. Her mother, who was usually nearby, was working in the kitchens today, so she was without the friendly banter and joking that accompanied her mother’s presence.

She sat up, brushing her silvery-white hair from her eyes. She would have to ask Lucaina for bleach to remove the spot, so for now, she hoped neither the queen nor King Oskar was paying too much attention to the floor. She was about to turn her attention to the windows when a voice called out to her.

“Kari! You’re needed in the kitchens.” She didn’t even have to turn to know that it was Helene calling her. That woman’s sharp, authoritarian tone never changed, even a little. She rolled her eyes, but complied. Helene shook her head as she judged Kari’s handiwork. ” You missed a spot!”

“You get it out then, dumhuvud!”

* * *

 Marte Johannson was almost as bold as her daughter, though she still yanked on Kari’s earlobe when Helene told her how Kari had spoken to her.

“You need to have more respect for your betters, girl.” She said warningly as Kari rubbed the side of her head. She groaned and reluctantly agreed. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about, now her head hurt as well. She was eleven, not three, and she did have respect for her betters. She just didn’t consider Helene one of said betters. As punishment, of course, Helene was making her scrub the floor of the dining hall. The woman even had an air of arrogant superiority when doling out punishments. But that wasn’t her concern. The dining hall was massive, and Kari had no helpers, since her friends Sofie and Hedda were busy taking stock of the palace’s fresh produce today. She cursed Helene under her breath, deciding to just get to it. The later she started, the later she would finish. Moping already, she collected her cleaning supplies and made her way over to the dining hall.

* * *

 Thank every god in every religion for Helene. If not for that stiff bitch, she would not have known what to fight for.

* * *

She had cleaned maybe 10% of the floor when she heard approaching footsteps. Being 11, and impertinent, she answered without looking, expecting that it was her mother or Helene, come to check on her progress so far. She groaned.

“I’m doing it, I’m doing it. Leave me alone.” She said the last sentence quieter, but it was still easily audible. She heard the footsteps falter, and then continue approaching her. She huffed, dropped her scrubbing brush into the bucket, turned, and found herself almost at eye-level with the young prince. He blinked.

“Sorry miss, I was hungry.”

Kari was only young, but still had a good grasp on mortification. And that was what she was feeling now. A gasp escaped her lips.

“I’m sorry your majesty! I thought you were my mother, or the head maid.” The young boy blinked, looking completely baffled. For a six year old, he had a surprisingly intelligent look about him.

“It’s okay.” He said simply, “I once did that to Mor, she wasn’t happy. But I only did it because I thought it was Lia coming to steal my toys again. She shouldn’t do it, they’re mine, but Mor and Far won’t stop her.” He pouted. Kari stared at him. He stared back.

“Do you have siblings miss?” he asked, the epitome of politeness. It took her a moment to get over her shock; which was primarily over the fact that the Crown Prince of Fynkn was calling her ‘miss’, and actually answer.

“No, but I have a cousin called Sindre” she managed. The prince cocked his head slightly.

“Does he steal your toys?”

Kari couldn’t help but smile, “Yes, he used to, but he’s grown up a little now”. She had heard a few stories of the young heirs to the throne, though no-one had mentioned that the prince was so adorable. She felt like mussing up his hair and giving him a big cuddle.

“What’s your name miss?” she smiled again.

“Kari Johannson, your majesty.” He smiled shyly.

“That’s pretty. I’m Lukas.”

“Thank you, your majesty, though I think the name Lukas is very pretty too.” Kari had been hoping it was an acceptable thing to say, and was rewarded with a small giggle from the prince. His questions continued, and she found herself sitting on the floor with him, talking casually. He really was a sweet kid. And he insisted that he call her ‘miss’ even though he far outranked her.

And when Helene came to yell at her for not being finished, Kari got to enjoy the look of horror on the head maid’s face when the small prince lectured her about how rude it was to yell.

* * *

It continued. Somehow, the small prince deemed her worthy.

Sometimes, she would see him at a distance, and he would wave enthusiastically at her. Sometimes he would smile and say hello when she was on serving duty. Sometimes, he would come across her in the halls, or while working, and hug her legs with a loud ‘hello miss!’. At one point, he did the latter while walking with his mother, Queen Astrid. The queen just smiled kindly and bid her a good morning, actually having a small conversation with her before moving on, Lukas running to keep up with her. He seemed to enjoy talking to her, and he quickly became like a younger brother to her.

The prince was polite and courteous to everybody, no matter how lowborn. He was surprisingly intelligent for his age, and loved nothing more than reciting interesting facts or explain what he had been learning in his lessons. Marte just shook her head, smiling at the small royal’s antics. Helene told Kari that she still had to do her duties, but if the prince were to come along, to pay him mind immediately and entertain him as necessary. Helene seemed shaken from her first encounter with him. To yell in the presence of royalty when you yourself were of far lower birth was disrespectful, even Kari knew that. But she didn’t use it to her advantage.

Well, not _too_ much.

The prince was just pleasant to be around, in all honesty. He respected everyone, and insisted on helping Kari if she was having trouble. As time passed, she began to see him less. He needed more lessons, and needed to learn how to actually rule his people. It was disappointing to Kari, but she had expected it. She was five years older than the prince, and a servant. Any nobles would probably see her friendship with the prince as inappropriate, though the King and Queen themselves knew her by name and didn’t seem to mind. But she liked to talk to him. As she matured more, it reminded her of her own years as a child, and she knew now that she wanted children in the future. Spending time with the little boy, and the few occasions she had been asked to briefly care for him had told her that already.

He was kind, he was good, and he reaffirmed her confidence in the Bondevik royal family. She owed him moments of innocence and laughter.

And later, when the world was burning, she owed him her life.

* * *

  _4501CC_  
_9th of Jaune_  
_“The Day of Death”_

Kari was strong. Kari was brave. She had to be.

The world was burning. That was all that anyone was saying. She had not had the courage to pull apart the curtains and see for herself, because the others were saying that the world was burning. All of the light inside the castle was strange and ugly. Normally, the blue-grey hue of the stone walls was matched by the light. Today, redness crept through the covered windows, and cast garish shadows onto the floor. There was panic in the air. There was tension in the air.

Kari could also smell blood in the air, but no one had spoken of it, and she would not be the one to start a conversation. Her mother had her close, running her hands through her long, pale hair, eyes skimming the room, their speed driven by her fear and anxiety.

Screaming reached their ears. Now, she could smell people burning too.

Kari was no fool. She had heard of the escalating tensions, of restrictions and political crises, of murders and assassinations. Of military mobilisation. For over a year, the relationship between the Free Courts and the Saijani Union was akin to a ticking time bomb. But she had not expected that bomb to explode. But explode it had.

She moved away from her mother, towards the windows. The others watched her. She gripped the curtains, one in each hand, and pulled. They slid apart, and she looked outside.

The world was burning.

A thousand fires were burning, on the high hills and low valleys. Houses were crumbling, and even from this distance, she could see the people being gunned down, could see the animals running wild with fear. She could smell smoke, and carnage.

She closed the curtains. Her mother took her hand and pulled her away. The screaming grew louder, and Helene turned to them as heavy footsteps thundered in the distance.

“They are here.”

* * *

 Helene stood tall and proud as the others ran. From what Kari heard, she stood tall and proud until the invaders plunged a dagger through her neck. She regretted every harsh word.

* * *

They went via the throne room. The queen lay unmoving, drenched in red. The king, not far away, wasn’t even recognisable as a human anymore. They had almost torn him to pieces. But the prince and princess did not lie with them, and that gave them hope.

* * *

Kari last saw Prince Lukas Aleksander Bondevik near the gardens, at the rear of the palace. He had blood all over him, and he was turning his mother’s crown over in his hands. Unharmed physically but no doubt mentally destroyed. His mother’s handmaid, Silje, was trying to keep fleeing servants out of the gardens, saying that the Saijans would know they were here if they continued to come. Lukas remained in a quiet reverie, his small sister Emilia clinging to his vest. He lifted his head, and called over Silje. She went to him immediately and bent low to hear him. Her face slackened slightly, and she appeared about to protest whatever he had said, but he interrupted whatever word had been half-formed in her mouth with a quiet ‘please’.

And Silje obeyed.

* * *

 On the Day of Death, an eight-year-old Lukas Bondevik saw his parents die. He walked through their pools of blood, trying to get them to wake up. He picked his mother’s crown up, found his sister, and his mother’s handmaid, and went to the gardens, where he had a chance of escaping.

On the Day of Death, an eight-year-old Lukas Bondevik saw death and destruction all around him. He heard the vicious screams of the invaders who meant to kill him. He saw the small number of well-stocked ships in the courtyard. He ordered his mother’s handmaid to fit as many of their servants on those ships as they could. He said goodbye to a nice girl who he liked talking to, and was fun to be around, and watched his chances of definite survival enter open space.

* * *

She had sworn.

Sworn that she would do whatever she could to help him. Whatever she could to defend him, or in the case of his death defend Fynkn. Sworn that she would find some way to repay the young prince who had saved her mother’s life and her own, repay the young prince who placed the safety of his family’s servants above his own.

In the time since, she’d grown bitter, and angry. The only people who she could bring herself to care about were her mother, and the prince.

But she would give her life for him, as he had almost done for her.

Because when his family was dead, and the world was burning, Lukas Bondevik thought of _everyone_ _but_ himself.


	9. The Confessions That Will Free Us (And Bind Us Further)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am back, with one of the most important chapters of the story! (I think you can guess why from the title). Anyway, moving onwards...
> 
> RECAP:  
> Lovino and Feliciano are on Rela, and Lovino has decided to tell his brother the truth  
> Lukas and Emilia are ??? (who knows)  
> Tori has joined the crew of bounty hunters, and Gilbert is uncomfortable with it (for some reason??? that may be revealed??? such mystery???)  
> The Resistance fighters are planning to rescue their friend from pirates
> 
> WARNINGS: (SPOILERS) Mentions of incest (quite a few), language, some odd conversations. Also if you don't like the first 'confession' in this chapter, soz. It sort of came about when I was planning this story, and is an important part of the character's past and future. Sorry if it makes anyone uncomfortable (hell, it makes me uncomfortable), that was not my intention!

The most traumatising experience of Gilbert’s life really only occurred because of a pineapple. That was the most poignant thought he had about it at the time. Later, he would have the time to consider it a bit more, but _at the time_ … well, yeah. A pineapple. He didn’t even like pineapples, so maybe it was a definitive sign to avoid them.

Oh yeah, and Tori. It was also fucking Tori’s fault.

* * *

 

_28 th Janwir_

Tori had been a part of their crew for what, four days? Boy, it felt more like four years. She slipped into their routine so easily it was like she had always been a part of it. All of the others loved her (especially Feliks, god fucking dammit was that bastard infatuated. Tori could have told him to murder someone, and Feliks would have asked how violent she wanted it to be.) but whenever Gilbert found himself alone or remotely close to being alone with her, he tried to exit that situation as quickly as possible.

Matthias had told him to be nice to her because Feliks liked her, but Gilbert and Feliks got along about once a year, so that was a stupid thing to try to tell him. If Gilbert and Feliks were fighting all the time, having known each other for years, what was it that made Matthias think that a girl he’d met like a week ago, who was a close friend of Feliks’, would garner offers of kindness from him? Seriously, Matthias had the disposition, personality and expectations of a golden retriever. And Gilbert loved dogs, but some of them (like Matthias) were fucking stupid.

In addition to fitting in well, the reason that it felt like Tori had been here for years was that so much drama and random shit had happened since she’d joined them that it could not physically have occurred in less than 100 hours. They had gotten deep into their vodka stash while they were celebrating Tori joining their crew, and when they woke up the next morning, Antonio had been duct-taped to the ceiling, Francis was wearing three pairs of pants, one of their windows was covered in glitter, and their steering wheel was missing. The rest of the morning had been a group of hungover people (save for Louise, because Gilbert refused to let his baby sister drink in excess) trying to find and reattach their steering wheel (so they could, you know, _steer the fucking ship_ ), getting Antonio down from the ceiling (the entire duration of which Antonio just made bad puns until they threatened to leave him up there) and scrubbing their windows. And that had been _day fucking one_.

Things had gotten progressively weirder, and though yes, some of what had happened had been incredibly entertaining; such as when Francis had been cussing out Alfred, and Tori had put her hands over Louise’s ears to ‘protect her innocence’, even though she was a whole year younger than Gilbert’s sister; and when Tori had faceplanted on the floor, and stolen Ivan’s shoes when he laughed at her, beating him with them when he tried to get them back. But today’s dilemma took the fucking cake.

Tori and Ivan had decided that the control room was the best place to have an argument. Gilbert was a bystander in this particular situation, and an unwilling one; he’d been eating his lunch while trying to fix the fuses for the lights in his room, which kept flickering on and off without prompting. Tori and Ivan had entered the room arguing, and upon spotting him, had tried to get him to decide who was right and who was a complete idiot. Their argument had continued to escalate, to the point that Tori had produced a pineapple from her pocket (at this point, both Ivan and Gilbert had exchanged the same, perfect ‘why the fuck’ expression) and threatened to throw it at Ivan’s face, which Gilbert had to admire, especially considering that Ivan was a good foot taller than her and a lot stronger.

Ivan had continued to scoff about her being wrong, and the words exchanged had become more and more charged until Tori made good on her threat.

And now Gilbert was on the ceiling, staring at the shattered panel, wondering how fruit could do so much damage.

Tori was screaming, Ivan was shouting a great deal, and no doubt the rest of the ship was doing the same, considering that it was now doing a barrel roll at 32,000 kilometres an hour. The worst thing was not the spinning, it was that their gravity field was still on, so they were being thrown around like ragdolls. Gilbert felt a metal bar slam into his side and grabbed a hold of it, desperate to avoid getting his spine broken by the violent movements of the ship. He could hear Matthias screaming outside the control room, and suddenly his movements slowed. He almost sobbed his thanks at that point. Matthias must have turned off the ship’s gravity.

He released the bar and spun in mid-air, having spent enough time in zero-gravity to know how to get around. He faced Tori, who looked completely out of her depth, squirming in mid-air.

“What the fuck did you do?” he yelled, propelling himself toward the damaged control panel even as he said it. Her eyes were wide, and though she was clearly apologetic and terrified, he shoved her roughly out of the way, ignoring her shocked, fumbled apologies. He cursed. It was an important panel of wires and fuses, which helped support the propulsion and direction of the ship. No wonder they were in such a shitty situation. He could see severed wires and shattered disks and gears. This was going to take ages to fix, and Gilbert certainly didn’t have the skill to do it. Louise might, but he wasn’t sure if she had ever fixed any of these specific panels before; the chance that she might damage them further was too great.

He almost screamed in frustration, turning away, sending a nauseous-looking Tori a vicious glare before clambering out the door. Most of the others were assembled near the entrance. Matthias looked completely bewildered.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, “The ship just went crazy.”

“Yeah,” Gilbert growled, “Fucking Tori broke some of the components for the ship’s suspension and propulsion. I can’t fucking fix it, so I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Matthias frowned, looking deeply troubled at the news. Gilbert cast his gaze up, where there was another window facing outwards into open space. The stars were little more than blurs as the ship shot past them. They weren’t going to slow down any time soon.

Alfred, who had made his way into the hall to hear the news, cursed and bit his lip anxiously. Louise looked like she was on the verge of a cardiac arrest when she heard one of the central control panels was damaged. Gilbert shook his head.

“We’ll have to try to get into a solid gravitational field to re-orient ourselves and land safely.” He said, “That’s the only way we probably won’t die painfully.” They all nodded, looking grim. This was a dangerous situation, and everyone knew it. There was a high chance of death or injury, but they’d done things like this before, so if they could just keep their wits about them, they would probably be fine.

Matthias, Antonio and Alfred made their way to the cockpit to try and determine the nearest planet with an appropriate gravitational field. Louise ducked inside the control room to evaluate the damage, with Ivan assisting no doubt. Tori drifted out, and when she saw him, opened her mouth, likely to try and apologise again. He just scoffed at her and made his way toward the cockpit.

When he got there, the other three seemed to have found a few places.

“Those are our two options” Gilbert heard Matthias say.

“What are our two options?” he inquired. Matthias didn’t even turn when he heard him.

“Galee and Misor.” He answered, studying the dashboard where a map was displayed. “Likely Galee.” Gilbert felt himself freeze.

“No, I think we should try Misor instead,” he hurriedly said, “it’ll be easier to get the panels fixed.”

“I don’t think so,” Alfred said, “I’ve been to Misor, and if we land on the side that we would have to land on, it’ll be more difficult to get a professional mechanic. It’s mostly rural areas. You know, rice farmers and that. Galee’s the better option.”

Gilbert was shaking his head before Alfred had even finished his sentence, “No, no, no, we should go to Misor.” Matthias turned, frowning at him.

“It doesn’t make a difference, so long as we get the panels fixed.” He said. “It’s no big deal.”

“Seriously,” Gilbert said, even as Matthias nodded with finality and drifted, along with the others, out into their communal area, leaving Antonio in the doorway so he could pilot the ship “Galee isn’t a good place to stop, can we please go to Misor? I don’t mind rice farmers.” His voice was rising in volume and desperation. Alfred gave him an odd look.

“Do you have something against Garvichs or something? They’re actually quite friendly, in my experience. And besides, I’ve never been to Galee, so it’d be fun to finally see it. If this is some prejudice you have, I don’t wanna hear it.” Matthias nodded in agreement, giving Gilbert an almost reprimanding look. Gilbert stared at him, unsure of how to respond. Ivan, Berwald, Feliks, and Francis drifted through the door on the opposite side of the room, with Tori clumsily following them through a moment later.

Gilbert could feel his whole body reacting to his mounting fear; his windpipe restricting like an iron fist was squeezing it, his pulse was beginning to race and thunder in his chest, and his breaths started to grow more and more laboured. He shook his head almost wildly.

“No, no, no, no, no, we have to Misor, okay? Not Galee, please, please not Galee.” He was begging now, but he could mourn his lost pride later. For now, he was trying to make sure his pride was the only thing he lost. Matthias was giving him an almost disgusted look, as was Alfred. The others just looked very, very confused. Gilbert was running his hands through his hair almost manically, his entire body shaking gently. He didn’t think he’d ever been this afraid in his life. Distantly, he heard Francis asking Matthias what was happening, and Matthias replying that he had some aversion to Galee and it’s Garvichs. He heard more muttering, probably their disgust, before Matthias announced “We’re going to Galee anyway.”

“No! Please, don’t make me go there, please, Matthias, they’ll _kill me_.”

Matthias blinked, looking completely baffled.

“What?!” he asked, “What do you mean they’ll kill you? Why would they do that?”

Gilbert was clutching his own head at this point, breathing deep but erratic. He looked up and made eye contact with his friend. With his Rywanese friend. Perhaps, whatever his views, there would be some part of him that pitied him. He wished Louise was here, even if she was only his half-sister. He had to force his mouth open, and just managed to utter those damming words before throwing himself to the side of the room, pressing himself to the wall like it would protect him.

“My parents were brother and sister.”

* * *

> **Taint (Definition)  
> ** **Derived from ‘Political and Social Terminology in the Saijani Union’ by Ankka Merid**  
>    
>  Noun:  
>  _(1) a person born from first to third degree incest (slang)_

* * *

 

Antonio guided their ship to the ground as carefully as he could, and the fact that he managed to land without killing anyone, either on-board or on the ground, was incredible. If Antonio was religious, he would have called it a miracle. His mind was nowhere near where it should have been, but he doubted anyone’s was. He stuck his head over the dash, gazing out the front screen at the shocked and curious people approaching the ship. Alfred was right, they were all farmers in this region of Misor.

Antonio had never changed a course setting so quickly as he had after he’d heard Feliks’ brief explanation for Gilbert’s terror. Switching their landing plans from Galee to Misor must have taken him less than ten seconds. That simple statement was still ringing in his ears, rattling around his head in a manner that was honestly horrifying.

He remembered watching the scene from the doorway, waiting for them to get within range so he could attempt to land. Remembered the stunned and vaguely revolted expression on Matthias’ face, but the confusion that had taken over it just a second later. The tall blond had just muttered ‘why...?’, in confusion, before Feliks had offered an explanation. One that had, as they all noticed, made Gilbert flinch.

“Taints are hunted for sport on Galee.”

And that statement had shifted Matthias’ expression to absolute shock. Antonio hadn’t seen what their leader did next, he’d been too busy resetting their landing sphere. But now that they were safe, their entire ship had descended into complete silence. Antonio exited the cockpit to greet his friends, many of whom gave him thankful nods, glad that his piloting skills had won out over inconceivably bad odds once more. Many looked drawn or shocked, no doubt still trying to process the news about Gilbert.

All of them, anyway, but Tori. She was looking around at their pale faces with a look of utter confusion on her face. She was glancing from Gilbert, to Matthias, to Antonio, to the others standing near the couches, and back again.

“Wait, what?” she broke the silence suddenly, and though her voice was at a normal volume, after the quiet of before, it was shockingly loud. “I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

Matthias sighed, and turned to face her. “A taint is –”

She cut him off mid-sentence. “I know what a taint is, okay? Aralos isn’t _that_ far removed from you civilised fucks. What I don’t understand is why you all look like your mothers have just dropped dead. We’re not even on Galee, so no one is getting hunted for sport, right? And we’re all alive, since Antonio landed this metal miracle – nice job, by the way – so what’s wrong with all of you?”

Matthias floundered for a moment, blinking at her bluntness. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, managing to speak this time.

“His parents were siblings. Like, his father was his mother’s brother, okay?” Tori stared at him like he was stupid.

“Yeah, Gil just told us that. I’m asking why you all look like a puppy that’s been kicked in the face.”

Feliks snorted, though quelled his laughter when Alfred gave him a sharp look. Matthias didn’t seem to understand how to explain it to Tori. He just gestured vaguely in Gilbert’s direction, like he didn’t quite want to look at him right now, and managed, “He’s a taint.”

“Oh,” Tori said, understanding in her eyes. She straightened up, able to stand properly given that gravity had reappeared once they’d landed. “You’re one of _those_ then?” When she was greeted by nothing but a blank stare, she elaborated. “One of those people who thinks that his existence is a crime to all of humankind.” She pointed at him, actually looking at him when she did – unlike Matthias. She sighed when she received no answer, and dropped her hand. She clasped them together and eyed him sharply.

“Did you ask your parents to fuck?” she asked bluntly. Matthias stared at her, looking baffled. She arched an eyebrow. “Did you ask your parents to fuck so you could come into existence?” Tori didn’t wait for a response this time. “No, of course you didn’t. You didn’t exist then, so you couldn’t control shit. Your parents made the decision, or maybe didn’t, to have sex, probably knowing, depending on the circumstances, if they would get a baby out of it. You can’t be blamed for you own existence, do you think that’s fair to say?” Matthias, still looking dumbfounded, nodded. Tori nodded, almost in satisfaction.

“Exactly, so you can’t be blamed for your own existence, and I doubt anyone else would blame you for it either. You can’t blame Gilbert for existing either. He never asked for his parents to fuck either. And you know what? Okay, maybe his parents are a little weird or mentally off, or they just have weird fetishes or something, and yeah, they are siblings, but it isn’t Gil’s fault he was born, just like it isn’t your fault that you were born. If you want to blame someone for incestuous grossness, blame his parents, since they’re the only ones who have done something wrong. He hasn’t done shit.” She shrugged to end her speech, and made eye contact with Gilbert then. “He has nothing to be sorry for.”

Francis applauded, and Tori jumped in surprise as he started laughing.

“An excellent speech, though I personally would have appreciated it if you had allowed us a chance to speak before launching into it.” He was smiling, and that smile didn’t even waver when he looked over at Gil, not even hesitating to throw his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “You are all free to think what you want, but I’ve never really cared about things like that.”

And though he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, when Gilbert looked around, he saw Ivan, Berwald, Feliks and Alfred nodding. Matthias was staring at Gilbert intently. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m afraid I was raised in a place where it was taught that people like you were revolting, and not to be treated kindly. And though I strive to pick and choose my own values, that one I haven’t been able to quite remove. I don’t think anyone should ever be killed for something their parents did, though I’ll admit I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea of your parents either.” He grimaced a little, “I mean, come on, siblings? That’s fucked.”

Gilbert laughed weakly, “Believe me when I say that I think it’s as disgusting as you do. I don’t condone it, not at all.” Matthias looked up, and smiled.

“In that case,” he said, extending his hand to grasp Gilbert’s shoulder, “I can live with it.”

They all pretended to not be able to see the tears running down the albino’s face. He hated emotional vulnerability, and they all knew it. They did have some small drama when Louise entered the room only to be completely shocked and worried when she saw her brother, but they explained the situation. Gilbert was quick to affirm that Louise wasn’t like him. They were technically half-siblings, and had the same mother, but different fathers (Louise’s obviously, wasn’t a close relative).

The most traumatising event of Gilbert’s life was caused by a pineapple. And Tori. But it was also solved by Tori. So she was back at square one. But he was more inclined to not yell at her now. So they both benefitted from this.

But, as the entire crew would agree when the costs of fixing their ship became clear, fuck pineapples.

* * *

 

 _Bibesti,_  
Rela,  
1st Fybwari

Feliciano’s silence was worse than any yelling he could have done. Just a minute of complete and total silence, before he stood up, walked outside and sat on the balcony in the cold night air. Lovino exhaled slowly, waiting in case his brother wanted to re-enter their apartment and break his nose. He wouldn’t blame him. He’d just unloaded 19 years’ worth of secrets onto him. Lovino had spent half a night crying, had given himself some more time to heal, then decided to just do it. So he’d sat Feli down and started from the very beginning, and unravelled every lie he’d ever told him, feeling like a worse and worse person the further along he got.

He placed his hand over his eyes, feeling deeply nauseous. He was distantly aware of the fact that he was shaking slightly. He didn’t know how long he sat there before he heard footsteps. He removed his hand from his face. Feliciano sank to the carpet, folding his legs under him. He stared Lovino down for a moment.

“Show me.”

He knew what he wanted without even having to ask. Lovino dubiously looked at his palm, not even sure if he had it in him at the moment.

“Show me.” Feliciano repeated, voice sharper. Lovino lowered his arm, unclenched his fist, concentrated.

The pins and needles came again, though they were briefer and milder, considering he had used his gift relatively recently. The warmth gathered in the centre of his hand, and after a moment, a small flame sprung to life, dancing across his calloused skin. It grew until the flames swung and twirled along his fingers, not even coming close to harming him. Feliciano silently reached out and turned his palm so that it was facing him like he was requesting a high-five. He watched it a moment before reaching out to clasp Lovino’s hand in his, trapping the flames between their palms. Feli didn’t react at all, evidently not in any pain. He withdrew his hand after a few moments, and stared at his unmarked skin.

“I’m an idiot.” Was all he said. Without another word, he rose and made his way back out to the balcony, sitting down and curling in on himself again. Lovino waited a few minutes. When it became evident that his brother wasn’t coming back in again, he rose from the floor, picking up a blanket as he went. He silently entered the balcony and draped the blanket around Feliciano’s shoulders before returning inside. Mentally and emotionally exhausted, he stretched out on the couch and let his eyes fall closed.

He didn’t hear Feliciano come back inside.

* * *

 

He woke without prompting, and, stretching, was content for a full millisecond before the events of the night before came crashing onto him. Lovino searched their entire apartment, but Feliciano was nowhere to be found. As if he wasn’t already panicking before, now he was borderline hysterical. He bolted outside without hesitation (barely remembering to close all eight of their locks) and darted down the hall. He promptly threw open Sadik’s door and charged inside. The groggy Qyyytish man was able to tell him nothing about his brother, and just told him to get out, throwing a shirt at him while averting his eyes again; Lovino had been in such a mad rush he hadn’t even noticed that he’d left his apartment shirtless. He dragged it on and darted downstairs. The hydraulic lift couldn’t move fast enough, and the few lingering in the lobby included no-one he knew, so he didn’t waste time asking them if they’d seen Feliciano.

He burst out into the crisp, cool morning air of Bibesti, already saturated with the scents of cigarettes, food oil and wood-smoke despite the early hour, twisting from left to right. He couldn’t fathom where Feliciano could possibly have gone. His mind was racing. He wasn’t at their own place, and he wasn’t at Sadik’s, so where?

There was a small, almost perfectly hidden concrete square just a few minutes’ walk away. Lovino used it to clean himself up after his fights or to stash things he’d stolen to go back and get later. He had told Feliciano about it, he was sure. It was normally about a five minutes’ walk, but he probably made it there in 30 seconds.

All the air left his lungs in one, relieved exhale when he arrived. Feliciano was sitting atop an overturned fruit crate, holding something in one hand, while the other ran through his hair. He was staring at his reflection in a puddle of dirty water, looking at it thoughtfully, as though wondering what his hair would look like naturally. He looked up when Lovino entered the alleyway, watching him silently. Lovino stared, feeling his worry disperse and his anger silently bubble up. To his surprise, though, when he spoke, he sounded remarkably calm.

“I don’t care if you’re angry at me, you are never allowed to leave without telling me where you’re going.” Feliciano stood, brushing dirt off the front of his pants, which were, Lovino noted, the same ones he was wearing yesterday.

“I’m not angry at you.” He replied simply.

“Then why would you run off like that?” he snapped, anger finally making itself known.

“Well you gave me a lot to think about!” Feliciano cried out, eyes wide, fists clenched, “I needed some time to process it all.” Lovino lowered his gaze for a moment, before looking up meekly.

“And?”

Feliciano seemed a little taken aback by the surprisingly calm response. He composed himself, and picked something up from the crate he’d been using as a seat, before tossing it to his brother.

Lovino caught it, surprised. It was one of his daggers, which he’d bought as a pair. Feliciano held it’s twin, raising his chin defiantly.

“Teach me.” He said.

“Teach you?” Lovino said, taken aback, “Knifeplay?”

“Everything. Everything you can do. I want to be able to do it too.” Lovino looked up at him, shocked. “After all,” Feliciano continued, “How else will we win this war?”

Lovino watched his brother for a very long time. He walked over to him, and grabbed his arms, readjusting his position.

“First off, you stand like this…”


	10. The Encounters That We So Solemnly Dread (And Sorely Need)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again! My inspiration surge is kinda over now, but I have planned pretty much the rest of the story, so yay! Please, please, please, comment and tell me what you think! I love feedback, and it inspires me to keep writing!
> 
> RECAP:  
> Tori has joined the bounty hunters, whose ship is damaged. Gilbert confessed the truth about his parents to his friends, and the group is currently on a planet called Misor.  
> Lukas and Emilia are ??? Who knows...  
> Lovino has finally told Feliciano the truth, and the pair is still on Rela.  
> The Resistance is planning a rescue mission to save their friend Elizabeta, who was kidnapped by pirates to be sold.
> 
> WARNINGS: Idk, none really. Some mutilation, strong language

_Ryotawari Sansima,_  
Misor,  
6 th Fybwari 

Francis was on the verge of applauding. Because after a week spent trying and failing to communicate with Misori rice farmers, they were finally fucking leaving. Not that he blamed the Misori people, oh no. They were delightful, though he couldn’t understand a word they were saying. But he could only eat rice and fish for so long before he lost his fucking mind. He kept these thoughts to himself, though, and merely politely thanked the farmers, who were sending them on their way with so much food that they could hole up in their ship for a good year and not go hungry. It was still in their best interests to leave. They didn’t want to be a drain on resources for the poor farmers any more than they already had been.

They had farewelled them and thanked them profusely for all of their assistance, before leaving to enter open space once more. Francis was enjoying a nap in the co-pilot’s seat in the cockpit. Tori had learned about threatening people with fruit after their experience, but Matthias and Alfred had struck up some minor quarrel about the best way to spend 50 billion marks (they were really fixated on how large that number was, those two). If they succeeded in capturing the person whose head had acquired such a bounty – Lovino Vargas of Syhvva – they would have to split it ten ways, true, but that would still leave them all with 5 billion marks each, still a hefty sum. Francis could actually repay his outstanding debts and live his life in peace, something which he was looking forward to a great deal. He didn’t find as much of a thrill in the hunt and eventual kill or capture as his friends did. He always felt guilty, especially considering what he had lived through in his life. It reminded him of Camille…

The door opened with a loud bang – one malfunction they hadn’t been able to fix, and had given up on after a few tries – and Gilbert and Ivan appeared, seemingly disagreeing over something, and Francis groaned upon having his nap interrupted. He stood, moving outside so he could find somewhere quiet again. Gilbert fought with Ivan frequently, though they were normally less serious arguments than those he had with people like Feliks. Still, their bickering was irritating, and he didn’t feel like listening to it right now. Normally, if he was in the mood for some banter, he would just mutter ‘sexual tension’ when he saw them arguing. That usually resulted in a deal of shouting and strong denial, accompanied normally by Francis having something thrown at him. But he wasn’t in the mood today. His musings had dulled his disposition, and he was more in the mood to sit and brood about life. He’d spent the entire night sitting up and working through some old notes, as he tended to do on occasion. He must have spent three years now trying to link everything together, but he had failed so far, and was left just as lost as before. He shoved the thoughts out of his mind, not wanting to dwell on it for any longer.

He looked up, laughing when he spotted Tori by the door, clinging to the frame like she was afraid that the gravity would suddenly vanish again. She glared at him, but seemed satisfied that her feet would remain solidly on the floor, as she let go and approached him, sinking into the couch next to him.

“I’m still not used to flying around off-world, in all honesty.” She said, sounding a little embarrassed. Francis smiled.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it eventually.” At his words, she looked up hopefully.

“Did it take you a while to get used to it too?” Francis rubbed the back of his head.

“No, actually, but that’s only because I’ve been on IPV’s since I was small, so I was born with space-legs.” He joked. Tori cocked her head.

“IPVs?”

“Inter-Planetary Vessels.” Francis said in explanation, “Like this beauty. Pretty much anything that can exit a planet’s orbit without breaking up.” Tori tensed at the last two words, and Francis laughed again. “Don’t worry, this ship is perfectly safe.” He turned his head to face her properly. “You know, we were originally going to name her ‘Vision’, some inside joke among Feliks and Matthias, I think, but then Berwald joined our ranks and we thought it was a little insensitive.” Tori laughed at that.

“So what is it’s name, then?”

“Ah, ah,” he waved a finger reprimandingly, “Matthias insists we call this ship ‘she’. Believe me when I say that it’s better to not argue.” Tori grinned.

“Because he’s smart enough to know that all great men are supported by even greater women?” Francis laughed again at that, nodding. “But seriously,” she continued, “What is _she_ called?”

Francis rolled his eyes “The ISS Marauder. Matthias’ idea, not mine.”

Tori nodded, “I like it.”

“Matthias will be glad that someone does.” She giggled again, leaning back against the couches.

“So how long until we get to Reycass?”

Francis shrugged, “I’d say a few days at most. We’re not really in a hurry, and Matthias really doesn’t want to waste fuel. I don’t think we can afford it.”

The guilty expression on Tori’s face was enough to make him laugh again.

* * *

_About a day’s journey from Yan,_  
The SS Mutiny,  
6 th Fybwari

“Oh, you want water again? Really? I gave you some not long ago.”

“Four fucking hours ago.” The ragged girl ground out. The pirate straightened.

“Four hours? Well, you don’t need it that frequently, do you?” he swirled the full canteen mockingly. Though she had her pride, he could see her eyes following it with desperation. It had, in reality, been about five hours now. Perhaps the isolation of the cells and her thirst were already getting to her. If so, how sad, he’d hoped she would be more entertaining. They had taken their sweet time in getting to Yan. Why hurry? That would only waste more fuel, and he’d rather not decrease his impending profits at all. The girl would get them a hefty sum, of course, perhaps something approaching 3 million marks. The Union was always happy to do business with them, and for their efficiency, might even pay more.

The pirate crouched, and splashed water into the girl’s face. The majority fell on the floor, but he could see that she was still too proud to stoop to that level. She was so dignified, it was annoying. He found it more amusing when they screamed and begged, and it certainly made him feel less guilt about selling them off. He would fondly remember them as being spineless and annoying. This girl, however, had a backbone made of steel, and more poise than most noblemen he’d met.

“Arthur.” He barely had the time to look at his colleague before the flask was pulled from his grip and passed swiftly to the girl in the cell. She snatched it away, gulping down the liquid inside. It was only tap water, but it might as well have been an elixir of life, considering how quickly she drank it. He felt the smallest pang of guilt. Maybe he’d been a little cruel. He turned, sighing.

“You take away all of the fun, you know.”

Roderich rolled his eyes. “And you should know that you’re becoming a sadist. Since when did you love watching people beg?” Arthur shrugged.

“Oh, that’s always been satisfying, but this one refused.” He jerked a thumb in her direction, to which she responded with a fury-laced middle finger. He ignored her, walking towards the door now that his source of entertainment was gone. He saw Roderich briefly nod to their fiery prisoner before following him. Roderich was by far the most refined of them all, and was what many would call a ‘gentleman pirate’. Yes, he would steal your riches and shoot your neighbours, but he’d tip his hat and say ‘deepest apologies’ before doing so. Most people were surprised whenever they learned that Roderich was part of his crew. Something he understood completely. Roderich looked like the sort of well-educated man that a controlling old woman would encourage her granddaughters and grandsons to marry. Not completely out of left field, either; he was very highly educated.

He even looked the part, with glossy dark hair that never seemed to find the need to be messy, fair skin and dark violet eyes. Hell, even the clothes he wore looked professional and polished, considering how the rest of his crew dressed. Arthur normally threw on a pair of dark pants, a long-sleeved shirt, suspenders, metal-toed boots and his long, dark coat that he never washed. The others were similar, normally throwing on what looked or smelled the least dirty.

Not that Arthur minded. Whenever people did business with them, or, specifically when they did business with the Union, Roderich was sent, since he gave off the best impression. But Arthur wasn’t in the mood to hear his old insults today. He knew that he should just leave the resistance girl alone, but he had nothing else to do. He turned to face him.

“So, any more stops before we get to Yan, do you think?” Roderich considered it for a moment.

“I think we should stop at the Garsinon Anchorage. It’s owned by Galee, so we shouldn’t be stopped prematurely. I can collect extra supplies there, plus we need to check the Index, considering my Cell is broken.” He glared at nothing in particular. For once, that grievance was not Arthur’s fault. It had actually been Leon who had broken it, not him. Roderich was insisting that the young Yanish boy buy him a new one, though Leon was so poor he’d had to have Mei buy lunch for him the past four times they’d stopped at anchorages and outposts. Arthur was considering just buying Roderich a new one himself. Though his birthday wasn’t for another 8 months, Arthur was almost desperate to get the pair of them to shut up.

“Okay, tell Leon to reroute for Garsinon Anchorage.” Roderich nodded and made his way down the hall, leaving Arthur alone to his thoughts. He heard loud banging from below, and groaned, going to see what their Daernic prisoner wanted this time.

* * *

_Garsinon Anchorage [Galee]_

Ah, staring. People did it a lot. Particularly at him. The Garvich currently eyeing him like a fancy meal was starting to unnerve him, though he could at least be assured that it couldn’t harm him. Though this anchorage was owned by Galee, the laws that bound the rest of open space still applied, and murder was still illegal, lucky for him, or else the intimidating creature would have reduced him to little more than a dark stain on the floor already.

Gilbert turned, eyes skimming the rest of the anchorage. His blood status would be known by every person on here by the end of the hour, judging by how many Garvich there were here. Perhaps it was a good thing that the chaos with their landing panels had occurred, because the others would have certainly guessed anyway. He jumped when he heard a voice behind him.

“You aren’t worried about them, are you?” he relaxed upon seeing that it was just Ivan. Well, not something to relax about, but still, he’d take the big guy over the Garvichs any day. “They won’t hurt you. They can’t, remember, kotenok?” he continued. Gilbert forced a smile.

“Yeah, I know.” Ivan patted him on the head, which was irritating at times, but now was oddly comforting. “And I’m not a kitten.” Ivan just smiled, which was probably confirmation that he would never stop calling him that now. Gilbert sighed, finally stepping onto the metal walkway that hugged the mooring bays. He’d been forced to go out and buy Tori some new clothes, since her loose, desert robes weren’t really appropriate any more. She’d decided, quite spontaneously, to dye her hair blond. She’d finally come to the realisation that, as a Daernic person, even if she was just a normal civilian, people would still abduct her for money. She looked downright weird with the lighter hair, though. She and Feliks could have been cousins, since they now had the same colouring. It did work, however; she looked Pyndaphian, which was downright common in other areas. Tori herself came rocketing down the entranceway not a moment later, staring around in wonder. Honestly, this girl hadn’t been on a ship in years, got nauseous in zero-gravity, had never seen an anchorage…

For someone like him, who had lived planet-hopping for so long, it was strange to think about, though he supposed there were many people out there like her. He rolled her eyes, grabbing her arm to jerk her back into reality. He regretted it not a moment later, though, as she immediately began firing off questions.

_Q: How did they manage to contain a gravitational field and breathable atmosphere in such a small space?_

_A: Forcefield_

_Q: Is this anchorage smaller or larger than most?_

_A: About average size, actually_

_Q: How many ships do you think this anchorage can hold?_

_A: ? Maybe 40?_

_Q: What would happen if the machines preserving the forcefield broke?_

_A: Instant death_

_Q: What-_

_A: JUST ASK FUCKING FELIKS_

She did shut up after that, though he got a hell of a death-stare for his troubles.

* * *

Leon frowned at the message. It wasn’t normal that he got called out specifically. Considering that he was part of the infamous Captain Kirkland’s crew, which had some high talent pirates among their ranks, he was surprised that anyone had even bothered to learn his name. In addition to being overshone due to the fact he was a novice in this business, he was young. He didn’t even turn 18 for another 5 months. Being 17 in the realm of piracy often meant that people tried to manipulate and use you before they ever considered actually working with you.

It was frustrating, especially considering that he had more ability than most of his crewmates. It had been him who had captured the resistance girl, but Arthur would take the credit, and a majority of the profits, as usual. Leon wished he could establish himself as an independent entity, but he knew that was impossible, at least for now. He had no money, and being an unknown, no one would hire him. But here he was, getting an offer to hunt someone down. This sort of job fell more into the realm of bounty hunting, true, but he would take it.

After all, the person he was being told to find was just a little girl, a few years younger than him. How hard could it be?

* * *

Arthur didn’t trust her, not for a moment. But the ship was small, and he had been particularly cruel to her over the past week. He had cut down a bit, having grown sick of Roderich’s reprimanding stares, and his insistence that she still be respected.

 _Elizabeta Hedervary_. He thought, looking at her. Her profile on the Index listed her as wanted, and was accompanied by a photo, which was surprisingly rare. She didn’t look how she did in that photo, however. In that photo was the proud beauty that he had encountered on the battlefield. Captivity didn’t suit her. Her hair was knotted and oily, her eyes were framed with dark bags, and her normally slightly tanned skin had paled. He swore she might have even lost weight since they captured her. If they didn’t let her out of her cage at some point, the muscles in her legs might end up atrophying completely.

He didn’t trust her, and it was true; he was a cruel man. But he wasn’t a monster that would leave her to rot away. He gagged her, and bound her hands behind her back, pulling her to her feet.

“It won’t be for long, trust me.” He growled, “If you try anything, I’ll kill you on the spot. The Union still pays for dead resistance.” It wasn’t nearly as much, but she didn’t need to know that.

She nodded stiffly, eyes filled with loathing as he led her onto the anchorage.

* * *

Francis had been enjoying his day on the anchorage. Tori had been showing off her new clothes to them earlier, and Feliks had seemed pleased by the fact that she was apparently very fond of midriff shirts. Instead of her desert robes, she had clothes slightly more typical of a bounty hunter. Now dressed in a brown, long-sleeved midriff top, leggings, black boots and a double-long grey belt twisted around her waist multiple times, she looked like she had been chasing wealth her whole life. Her newly dyed hair was twisted into a long braid, which she had tossed over her right shoulder. She looked strange with blond hair. Not necessarily bad, but just different. Like the rest of them, she had also chosen an alias to use when dealing with anyone untrustworthy. Though she would be Tori to them and their closest associates, to others, she would be ‘Ida’.

After Tori had completed her new look, they’d all had the chance to get some lunch, and though Antonio – who normally cooked for them all – made some excellent food, it was good to have something different for a change. Garsinon Anchorage also wasn’t freezing like some others – here they actually knew how to operate temperature gauges – so he had taken a short walk to enjoy the view, managing to ignore any Garvich who managed to smell Gilbert on him and stare suspiciously.

All in all, a good day. It had been, anyway.

It had been while on his walk that he had made eye contact with one of the few people in the Universe whom he legitimately hated. He had felt his stomach turn at the very sight of him, and he’d watched that pair of familiar green eyes narrow.

Now, fast forward a minute or two, and he was taking great pleasure in slamming his fist into the gut of Captain Arthur fucking Kirkland. The pirate gave as good as he got, unfortunately, and Francis howled in pain after the other’s knee slammed into his nose, which emitted a loud, concerning crack. He didn’t need any doctor to tell him it was broken. In retaliation, he kicked the shorter man in the shin, hard, which rewarded him with a satisfying grunt of pain, but wasn’t quite able to dodge the right hook which slammed into his mouth so hard he swore his teeth rattled. His head jerked back, and responded to the pirate’s blow by roundhouse kicking him in the ribs. Francis cursed as Kirkland stumbled backwards, clutching his side. There was blood flowing from his mouth. If that motherfucker had dislodged one of his teeth or something, he was going to lynch him.

But the pirate wasn’t done yet, and after a second, Francis found himself exchanging blows with him again. Kirkland dug his nails deep enough into Francis’ arm to draw blood, so he retaliated by punching him between the ribs. Kirkland elbowed him in the throat, leaving him winded, so he scratched at the other’s eyes. The pirate once more socked him in the face, and Francis, having already seen his friends running towards them, decided to end it.

Not by killing him, no, that was still illegal. Francis almost did better. He got his teeth around the captain’s right pinkie finger and bit down hard. Another cracking noise met their ears, and Kirkland screamed, ripping himself away from Francis as the taste of blood again flooded through his mouth. The pirate was staggering, clutching his hand, which was now gushing with red.

“Fucking barbarian.” The pirate groaned, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood from the stump where his finger used to be. Francis spat at the ground to rid his mouth of the blood (and flesh) still inside. Alfred, Matthias and Antonio, who had been running over to them, stopped dead when they saw what Francis had done to the pirate’s hand. Alfred looked nauseous, Antonio looked horrified, and Matthias looked mildly impressed.

A Yanish boy who had been standing not far from Kirkland, and who had grabbed the prisoner that he’d been parading around when the blond had leapt at him, seemed to be assessing the damage done to his hand (and every other part of him). A few others were running towards the pirates, no doubt the rest of his little crew, and Francis could hear some of his other friends asking what had happened. Gilbert grabbed Francis and forced him to sit down, with Feliks starting to examine his injuries only a moment later. He still did his best to glare at the pirate out of the corner of his eye, though. He heard Antonio make a sound of recognition.

“Captain Kirkland” he said simply. Antonio disliked the pirate as well, but their feud was nothing compared to the one he had with Francis. He could almost hear the Captain’s frown as he responded with a simple “Carriedo”.

“Which one of you struck first?” Matthias asked, eyeing Kirkland with suspicion, though Francis could also see some pity there. No doubt for the pirate’s hand, which was still bleeding heavily.

“It was pretty much simultaneous.” The Yanish boy holding the bound girl said. Francis begrudgingly nodded when Matthias turned to him for confirmation.

“Damn, you fucked him up, I’m impressed.” This statement came from another one of Kirkland’s little band, a young girl, who looked Yanish as well. She nodded to Francis, a look of respect on her face. Kirkland glared at her.

“Shut it, Mei.” The girl didn’t look offended, she just shrugged and folded her arms.

“This is a bad time to do this.” Gilbert said, “but I didn’t actually do anything, so fucking deal.” With this odd statement, he turned his gaze onto one of the people near Kirkland, a man with dark hair and violet eyes, and waved at him. “Hey Roderich”. The man stared at him a moment, then waved back, tilting his head curiously, finally responding in a voice laced with a thick Incandan accent.

“My eternally odd cousin.”

* * *

It had been close to three years, or some ridiculous amount of time like that, since they’d actually physically seen each other, and of all the places to meet up, a rusting anchorage was not what he had expected. Not that Roderich was complaining. His cousin was unconventional (in so very many ways), but despite all of their differences, he was fond of him, and felt fairly confident in saying that Gilbert felt the same about him.

Roderich’s mother was the one sibling of the three that hadn’t had a thing for incest, and had married his father, who was from Rityl, which had changed his looks so drastically from those of his cousins. Whilst Louise had typically Incandan fair hair and blue eyes, Roderich had been provided with dark hair, purple eyes and even slightly darker skin. Gilbert, obviously, looked different to them both since he was an albino (a common result of incest among Incandan and Rywanese people). Despite discovering what made Gilbert so different at a very young age, it had never bothered him, not even when he had come to fully understand all of the implications. Roderich was frequently told that he was a very pragmatic person, and he took pride in it. If someone had an issue with his cousin, well, it wasn’t his problem, though he always felt inclined to defend him if necessary.

Because of what had happened to Gilbert and Louise’s parents after someone in their village had discovered Gilbert’s lineage, they’d left Incanda, and so greatly lessened their interactions. It was always good to see him again, though. Hell, Roderich wasn’t normally a tactile person, but he did take the time to cross the space separating the two equally odd groups and hug the two of them. The leader of their group, the loud one with spiky blond hair, looked completely baffled, while another girl with long blond hair was laughing. Arthur was rolling his eyes.

“So how have you been?” Gilbert asked casually. Roderich shrugged.

“Fine, thank you. I am not looking forward to hearing the Captain’s whining because of what your friend did, however.” Gilbert grinned sheepishly, before turning to the bloodied man sitting on the floor.

“Speaking of which, what the actual fuck, Francis? Since when did you maim people like that?” the blond glared.

“Don’t worry, it’s just him.” He said thickly, before spitting a lump of congealed blood onto the floor. His nose was still bleeding, and a large amount of it had gotten on his white shirt. Roderich wrinkled his nose at the sight. He didn’t understand why the man wasn’t starting to clean himself up already. Gilbert shook his head, still looking slightly bewildered. They had both managed to find themselves in strange company that day, it seemed.

“Okay, listen.” The loud one said, “Since this is clearly a feud between you two only– “

“Because he’s a cunt.” Arthur snarled.

“And you’re a dirty fucking pirate!” Francis retaliated. The two seemed prepared to continue their shouting fit, until the Pyndaphian tending to Francis decided to shove a wad of bandages into his mouth. Mei did the same to their dear Captain not a moment later.

“Thanks” the loud blond said, nodding to both of them. “As I was saying, since this feud seems to be between you two only, I suggest we just leave it alone now. I don’t want to start some sort of fight between us.” With their Captain gagged, Leon took the initiative to answer for him.

“Agreed.” The teenager straightened up from where he’d been kneeling by the Captain, brushing his hands on his pants. “We should leave this matter at peace.” Leon gestured to the others, who dragged Arthur to his feet to lead him back to the SS Mutiny. Roderich turned back to his cousin.

“Are you leaving soon?”

Gilbert shrugged. “We’ll leave in a few hours, I think.” Roderich nodded.

“Meet me over by Bay C in an hour, and we can catch up properly.” He gave him an exasperated look, “For now, I am playing nursemaid.” Gilbert cracked a grin and nodded. Roderich turned, following his friends, noticing that their prisoner, Elizabeta, was still standing there, having not moved. She was staring, but not at him. He followed her gaze, to one of the young bounty hunters. Roderich had met him only once before, and was fairly certain that his name was Alfred. The girl’s face was stark white, and her eyes were wide with what looked like shock and disbelief. He raised an eyebrow at her. She finally managed to tear her gaze from the younger man and look at him, face pleasantly void of the hateful glares she tended to direct at the rest of their crew. He glanced back at the boy, and then at her, expression inquisitive. She avoided his gaze. He shrugged.

“Very well then.” He said simply, accepting that she wasn’t going to tell him what is was, he took hold of her restraints and began leading her back towards the ship. Even though she was gagged, he had the feeling that she would remain silent even if she was untied. But, he supposed, she might have just thought he was handsome or something. It did leave him curious though, and he was almost reluctant to lock her back in her cell.


	11. The Hurdles We Must Overcome (And Those That Arise in Their Place)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beautiful readers! I managed to update again! Yay! My objective the past month or so has really been to properly plan out this story so I know where I'm going with it, and have several chapters written in advance so that if I do hit writer's block, my updates aren't affected. I am going through some WB right now, though only with this story, but I still have 1 chapter written in reserve, so woop. Updates will be a little staggered over the next few weeks since I have assignments to do and exams to study for, so just be prepared!
> 
> RECAP:  
> The bounty hunters and Tori encountered pirate Arthur Kirkland and his crew at an anchorage near Galee. Francis and Arthur, having a long history, had a fight which ended with Francis biting Arthur's finger off.  
> Lukas and Emilia are who knows at this point, but (wink wink nudge nudge), since they have money, they might be able to go places they want to go to....  
> Lovino and Feliciano are on Rela, still, and Lovino is training Feliciano.  
> Some members of the Resistance; Matthew, Abel, Kari, Bella and Carlotta, have gone on a rescue mission to help their friend Elizabeta, who is held captive by Arthur Kirkland. Tino remains on Nyma.
> 
> WARNINGS: Cursing (because Francis and Arthur are here), mild sexual harassment, mentions of some war shit.
> 
> Also, some new characters this chapter! Yay! Please comment guys! I love hearing what you think and it really inspires me to keep going!

_Garsinon Anchorage [Galee]  
8TH Fybwari_

Of all setbacks, a power outage. Arthur had been content to rage against Francis, but not long after they had returned to their ship, a great drone, the drone of a dying machine, had filled the air. He had taken joy in at least seeing how one of Francis’ bounty hunter friends had whitened within seconds and run back to their ship like she was afraid of being sucked into the void of space. Her friend, the other Pyndaphian, had been too busy laughing to explain that Calexa-A forcefields like this one didn’t rely on power, and that she was perfectly safe. The girl had attempted to roundhouse kick the Pyndaphian, to no avail, and Arthur, despite not knowing either of them, and despite them being friends of Francis, found the scene amusing. It had served, at least, to take his mind off the pain in his hand for a moment.

Arthur was no weakling. He prided his strong tolerance for pain, and was hardly new to bad injuries. But this took the cake. He couldn’t believe that the crazy blond had gone so far. This wasn’t something that could be easily fixed – and Arthur didn’t have the money for it, like Francis no doubt thought he did. At least, it was only his pinkie finger, instead of something more vital, like his pointer finger. Still though.

And it hurt like hell too. Yes, it had hurt at the time, horrifically so. But even now, it spasmed and ached endlessly. He’d been given morphine and other painkillers, but the pain managed to still cut through the pleasant haze provided by both. He wanted to ask for more, badly, but he knew that he had already ingested too many. He wanted the pain to stop, but he didn’t want to accidentally overdose. He sighed. Sitting in his ship waiting for the power to restart was going to drive him insane.

Some of the bounty hunters from Francis’ ship had already come over. Hell, Roderich’s cousin – Gilbert? Yes, his name was Gilbert – had come in to visit and apologise for his friend’s behaviour. Though the albino was loud and seemed a little arrogant for Arthur’s tastes, he already vastly preferred his company over Francis’, and even Leon’s at this point. The 17-year-old had been oddly quiet as of late, and had spent a lot of time checking through databases, and using Arthur’s Cell to look at the Index. Whoever he was investigating, however, he kept to himself, even going so far as to wipe the search history from the device. It bothered Arthur. He knew that Leon resented him, of course, he would have to be blind to not notice that, but he didn’t think the boy hated him enough to conspire against him.

He groaned, shaking his head to dispel the headache he could feel forming. He stood. Staying cramped in here while nursing his wounded pride wouldn’t help him one bit. He considered his options. Well, if Roderich’s cousin felt entitled enough to come aboard their ship, he supposed he would have to return the favour.

* * *

His mortal enemy’s ship, the ISS Marauder, was a beauty, that he had to admit. He’d heard from Gilbert, when he’d commented on it yesterday, that their pilot, Antonio, poured his heart and soul into its maintenance. And it showed. The _Mutiny_ was well-worn and a little beaten up from numerous encounters with law enforcement, but Arthur had never had the time or energy to put so much effort in. It must be because they had so many people on their crew, that Carriedo had so much time for it.

He spent another moment gazing up at it before lowering his eyes and approaching the open entryway. He stuck his head around, and spotted a few of them lounging around in the main room.

“Can I enter, or has the blond cunt cast a spell?” he asked sarcastically. Antonio, who was seated on the floor and apparently fixing his watch with a screwdriver, looked up, surprised.

“Oh, you can come in.” he said, turning back to his task. Arthur made his way up the ramp, looking around. Though the exterior was very clean and polished, the inside was a different story. It was obvious that a great many people lived here. He could see old plates, food remains, clothes and all sorts of other personal effects scattered about the room. It was interesting. Roderich could be quite uptight when it came to hygiene. It seemed no one here had the same proclivities. It was oddly refreshing. Antonio gestured vaguely to the whole room, as if to say, _go where you want_. Arthur nodded at him – neither of them wanted to start a conversation with the other – so he decided to see if he could meet any of the other bounty hunters here.

* * *

It was funny. When Arthur heard the words ‘bounty hunter’ he sort of envisioned someone similar to himself, toughened but not evil. And for the most part, that’s what they were like. This young man, however, didn’t fit the mould at all.

Well, he couldn’t really call him a young man, considering that he seemed around Arthur’s own age, but he had an odd immaturity, a youthfulness about him. Mei was only 15-years-old, and yet she seemed to have more worldliness than this one. His name was Alfred, as he excitedly introduced himself. The boy (because he was not mature enough to pass as a man) had then tried to shake his hand, grabbed the injured one, and spent the next ten minutes apologising while Arthur fought back tears of pain. Alfred had had the sense, at least, to not try and touch him more. Once Arthur had managed to shake off the pain, he’d actually spoken to him properly. He was pleasant enough, though he spoke very loudly and very quickly. He also asked a lot of questions, which was irritating, considering that Arthur did tend to be a more private person. But finally, the boy actually asked a question he could answer.

“Why does Francis hate you? I mean, you seem cool to me.” Arthur was a little touched at the last part, though he didn’t tell or show Alfred that. He sighed. Their relationship was an interesting one. They hadn’t even always been enemies. When they’d first met, on Yan, they’d become friends. Arthur had been 18, Francis 16. It still shocked him that the Rywanese man was younger than him. Francis had always been taller, broader, and just seemed wiser, than Arthur was. In Arthur’s mind, Francis was the elder of the two, if not physically then mentally, though Arthur had an old soul as well. He’d often run along the days of their friendship in his mind, and recalled exactly how it had gone sour. He crossed his arms over his knee, and rested his head on them.

“I was a slave driver.” He eventually said, “I helped transport them and sell them. Francis hates the whole slave industry, so when he found out, he began to hate me as well.” He turned his head to face Alfred, and shrugged, “Simple as that.” Alfred was frowning.

“I didn’t even know he hated slavery, but he hates you just because you were involved in a minor part of the process?”

Arthur nodded. They were quiet for a while after that.

“I don’t do it anymore.” He murmured, repeating himself when Alfred looked at him inquisitively. “Slave-driving. I cut myself out of that business a few years ago, became a pirate instead.” Alfred looked more confused than before.

“Then why does he still hate you, if you quit it?” Arthur scoffed.

“By the time that I left that line of work, we loathed each other. I didn’t do it for him, I did it because I heard of more profitable careers.”

“Like piracy.”

“Yes, like piracy.”

More silence.

“You’re brutally honest, you know?”

“I have been told, yes.”

“I like it.” And when Arthur looked over at Alfred, the smile on his face was completely genuine. He tipped his head to him slightly.

“Thank you.”

* * *

_Bibesti,_  
Rela,  
9TH Fybwari

He dodged madly as the knives came ever closer to his face, bobbing and ducking, like he’d been taught. One swung out of nowhere, right near his throat. As he moved to the right to avoid it, another slashed upwards, carving deep into his face, right next his eye. Had it been a centimetre to the left, it might have blinded him.

“Shit.” Lovino swore when he noticed the bleeding cut on his younger brother’s face. “Shit, Feli, I’m so sorry.” Feliciano shook his head, both at the apology and the horrified look on his brother’s face.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t even hurt that bad,” he assured him, “and besides, I’m going to get injured eventually. My opponent isn’t going to be giving me the chance to dodge.” Lovino still frowned, but flicked his knives around in his hands and came at him again. They’d only been at this for a week, and all that Feliciano felt he had learned so far was that his brother was an incredible fighter, and he himself was almost completely useless. He could do little more than duck, and be glad that he at least had excellent reflexes. But his brother was just _so much better_. It was obvious to him now that when he’d faced off against Lovino for fun, he’d been seriously underplaying his talents. Feliciano lasted only seconds against him in knife-play, and only a little longer in hand-to-hand combat. Because of his speed and agility, he was quite good at dodging, but that wasn’t good enough. Feliciano needed to be able to go on the offensive.

They continued, and though Lovino was going noticeably slower, and was using wider strokes, which were easier to dodge, Feliciano still got nicked by the wickedly sharp blades. Lovino stilled and stopped after a while, lowering his knife. Feliciano looked up, indignant.

“Come on, I can still fight,” he said, lowering his eyes in shame, “please, just a little longer?” his words died in his mouth when he looked up again. His brother was doubled over, clutching his stomach, breathing heavily. Small drops of blood were appearing on his shirt. Feliciano bolted to his side, wrapping his arms gently but firmly around his brother, wrapping Lovino’s arms around his shoulders so he could bear his brother’s weight for him.

“Come on, you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.” He murmured, “we just need to get back home, yeah?” Lovino squeezed his eyes shut, nodding weakly. Feliciano took the blade from his brother’s hand, so that if anyone did try to attack them on the short road back home, he would be prepared. He cursed internally. It had been three weeks, yes, but his wound hadn’t cauterised, since the two of them couldn’t be burned, and Feliciano was no master when it came to stitching up stab wounds. Lovino had been healing slowly, and Feliciano had foolishly pushed his brother to train him, even when he knew that he was still injured. He took Lovino back home carefully, but quickly, not calling on Sadik this time. If the man saw that Lovino had no burn marks from their cauterisation attempt, he would instantly be suspicious, which meant that Feliciano had to try and care for his brother by himself.

* * *

It was very lucky for Feliciano that Lovino’s condition wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. By the next afternoon, he was up and walking around their apartment again. He said that he’d probably just twisted around too far or something similar, which had made it open and bleed again. Feliciano apologised profusely, but Lovino refused to hear it, stating only that he wasn’t responsible for it, and that he was happy to be teaching him how to fight. His mind was on his fighting ability during one such conversation.

“Brother,” he started, “I’m no good at fighting, we both know it.” Lovino turned, looking surprised, though it was likely more at the fact that he had spoken Syhvvanian than the actual content of his sentence. Feliciano had thought that he’d lost his native language, and had been nearly inconsolable for a good two days straight. His brother had sat down in front of him and said “Our language isn’t something you can lose, not even if you go without speaking it for as long as you have.” He’d responded that he couldn’t be serious, that it was always a possibility, and Lovino had just smiled and told him that he had just spoken in the same language that he was so worried about losing.

He’d heard his brother speaking their native tongue and responded instinctively. In the days since, he felt like massive chunks of the language re-entered his head every day, and they always spoke it when they were alone. It was strange that speaking Syhvvanian gave him so much comfort, especially given that he had only known his true heritage for little over a week. It was probably some ancient instinct, long forgotten by his mind but not his body. Lovino did sometimes have to gently correct his pronunciation on certain words, but when he knew it, he knew it forever. Lovino had also started teaching him their planet’s history at his insistence. But there was one, fairly major aspect of their lives that he refused to discuss further.

“I want to learn to use my gifts.” Lovino tensed when he heard the words, and sighed, looking tired.

“I’ve already told you why you can’t.” he had. Lovino said that it would be dangerous. One of the Syhvvanian gifts was fire, and if Feliciano couldn’t control it, he would burn their whole apartment down. The other wasn’t really any better. Telekinesis; which just opened up the possibility of him accidentally throwing their furniture out the window with his mind. Feliciano sighed. Lovino made it seem so easy. He did it quite often now, since Feliciano knew everything. Feli would get to watch white-hot flames dance across his brother’s palms, and watch him move things through the air without lifting a finger, but was not permitted to do it himself. He was trying to not feel too disappointed about it. It wasn’t just the magic of it all that made him want to learn. Lovino had finally shown him the bounties that the Union had attached to their heads. He’d nearly had a heart attack. Their constant moving, at least, made a lot more sense now. He’d had a brief moment of panic, in which he’d just flapped his hands and whisper-screeched “what about our names?” before Lovino had calmed him down and explained that though their names were rare in the solar system that Syhvva was in, they were quite common in other places, like Jhobras, which was where they were pretending to be from. It had calmed his nerves, but agreed that they should prepare solid aliases just in case. Really, Feliciano’s life had been endlessly more confusing since Lovino had told him the truth. He was still slightly overwhelmed by it all, but was doing his best to absorb all that was happening.

Lovino was a lot better at handling this than he was, that was for sure. But whenever he got too scared about it too sleep, his older brother had taken to running his hand through Feliciano’s hair until he fell asleep. Feliciano felt like they hadn’t been this close in years, but the stress of the secret that they now shared was almost too much to bear.

* * *

He’d been going out to get more rice when it happened. Lovino could barely even believe it – he had trusted him, for years, and now of all times he chose to go back on his word? But a moment later he smelled the alcohol on his breath, and understood. He shifted, pushing and pushing at him, trying to get the heavier man away from him. His whiskey-stained lips were pressing at his neck, and he felt his skin crawl.

“Get off,” he hissed, anger quickly dissolving into fear, “please, please just get off. Get off!” he shouted the last time, and heard a door open. Not his own, but another from across the hall, one that belonged to a man he had seen but never spoken to. He continued to push at the obviously-drunk Sadik, and suddenly the pressure was gone, the Qyyytish man shoved back, against the opposite wall. Lovino whirled around, staring at his saviour. A neighbour he was aware he had but had never associated himself with. Taking his first proper look at him, he realised that he wasn’t much older than Lovino himself. Neither was he tall, or overly intimidating in appearance. The most intimidating thing about him was definitely the rifle in his hands. He growled, jabbing it in Sadik’s direction.

“Get back to your own hovel.” He demanded, eyes narrowing. Though Sadik was incredibly drunk, he clearly wasn’t drunk enough to not recognise a high-calibre assault rifle when he saw it, and within a moment, he had done as the man had bid. The gun wasn’t lowered until Sadik’s door was shut behind him, at which point he finally turned to face Lovino, expression softening ever so slightly.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked. Lovino shook his head, fixing up his clothes with slightly shaking hands. He’d been attacked in such a way before, had similarly perverted people attempt to coerce him to bed, but they had always been strangers. Sadik was a friend. Had been a friend for years. The man grunted, resting the butt of his rifle on the floor, staring at Sadik’s door with a frown. Lovino studied him.

They were around the same height, and the man was clearly of Pyndaphian heritage, bearing the trademark blond hair and green eyes. His hair was longish, and fell to a few inches above his shoulders. He wore heavy-soled black combat boots, a white, long-sleeved shirt, and green army camouflage pants. He was just barely older than him, Lovino would guess, probably in his early twenties. The man turned back to face him, gaze flickering across his face. His eyes widened. Without prompting, he reached over and grabbed Lovino’s chin, pulling his face toward him.

The man held eye contact with him for a long moment, staring at him like a scientist stares at an organism under a microscope. Other than that, had the man leant forward just a little, they would have been kissing. As soon as he realised that fact, Lovino jerked himself out of the man’s grip. The man didn’t try to hold onto him, releasing his grip immediately. He did note, with concern, how the man’s gaze then fell on his hair, dyed black as it had been for years now. Lovino shifted, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“Thanks,” he muttered, turning on his heel and marching back inside to his apartment without a backward look. He received no response, and shivered slightly.

* * *

_Caladras,_  
Nyma,  
11TH Fybwari

Tino wiped blood from his face, breathing heavily. His normally pale, sand-coloured robes were drenched in crimson, both from others and himself. He frowned. Normally, being a sniper, he was far removed from the actual carnage, but this mission had gone almost completely haywire, and a bomb had taken out several of Tino’s teammates. His ears were still ringing from it. Though he felt horrible about it, he felt relieved. Relieved that instead of coming on this convoy, his closest friends were elsewhere, travelling to try and recover Elizabeta from the pirates which had abducted her. Not that their mission was any less dangerous. Pirates could be ruthless, and they would be even more motivated by the large bounty offered for Elizabeta. He was hoping against hope that they all came back safe. Matthew, Abel, Carlotta, Bella and Kari had taken off to retrieve their Daernic friend days ago, and Tino wasn’t worrying any less.

Matthew and Abel had been the ones to plan the operation, and there was no way Kari would permit them to save her friend without her. Bella and Carlotta had joined on to give them a good number of people for a rescue mission. Tino had had to stay on Nyma. He was one of the Resistance’s best snipers, and had been needed for this. Spies from the Union had been interfering in some of the territorial disputes that the native Nymian people had been having nearby. The Mugarobe and Coysash peoples had been vying over a stretch of land known as Katye’s Plain for years now, and it had escalated into a full-on civil war. The Resistance was assisting the Coysash people, as it was their land that their base was built on. The tribe of over 3 million people also prevented travel from Union personnel into their lands, and also provided them with food in hard months. The Coysash had helped them survive and do as much as good as they had been able to do. So, in return, they also helped the Nymian tribe fight their wars.

Tino hated how much destruction the war had already created, though on his brief journeys to Daerna and Fynkn, he had seen far worse. The current area of contention within the Plain was the city that Tino was in right now – Caladras. Once, it had been beautiful, but like all beautiful things that were surrounded by war, it had been destroyed. The majority of the conflict had moved onto the southern side of the city, away from where Tino was based. He sunk down, cleaning and reloading his rifle, until he heard the call going out.

“Minno, Smith, Vainamoinen, Jayce, Popescu. Off-duty.” He almost collapsed with relief when he saw their replacements arriving, grim faced already. Tino had been out since the 24th of last month, about a week longer than the fucking commander had been there, so to hear that he was being shipped back was happiness in it’s truest form for a soldier like him.

He pulled himself to his feet from his slouched position against the brick wall, rubbing grime from around his eyes while keeping his gaze roving around the area. It would be a pity if he were to be shot now. Though most of the Mugarobe soldiers had moved on now, there was always the possibility of a stray attacking them. Thankfully though, his journey out of the district went uninterrupted by neither soldiers nor their bullets.

When he finally got onto a cargo truck headed back to their base in Draak-Zafi Forra, his exhaustion was nearly overwhelming him. Tino almost collapsed from the effort of climbing into the back of the van, chest heaving and limbs screaming in agony. He was, to his surprise, caught by two pairs of slender arms. He looked up, frowning blearily when unfamiliar faces met his eyes. Two teenagers, with fair skin and black hair.

“Orphaned, I think. Pretty sure they’re from the Iramese colony.” Another sniper, Kristian, explained, answering his unasked question, “they wanted to join.”

Tino nodded in understanding, smiling at them weakly. New recruits were good, and they always needed them. As much as he wanted to present the image of a mentally and emotionally strong soldier right now, he just didn’t have the strength to engage anyone in conversation. He slumped against the chair, drawing his loose sand-coloured robes around him as his eyes closed. His last thought before he fell asleep was of the two orphans. _But_ , he thought, _Kristian must be wrong_. They couldn’t be Iramese, the nearest of the minority’s colonies was a fair stretch of land away, unless they’d crossed it. But that was unlikely as well, though it wasn’t completely unheard of.

But, most compellingly; as far as Tino knew – and he made it his business to know a lot about different cultures – Iramese people didn’t have blue eyes.


	12. The Paths We Choose For Ourselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yellow!  
> Aren't I good? It's only been two weeks between updates this time! Yeah, I'm back, with an unusual chapter today. This one isn't quite as long as I wanted it to be, but meh, I'm happy. I finally got over my writer's block for the next chapter as well! Finished it in one fell swoop, which is surprising, because it contains combat and fighting, which I am shit at writing (you'll see next time). 
> 
> RECAP:  
> Tori and the bounty hunters are on an Anchorage outside Galee. They have met Captain Arthur Kirkland, with whom Francis has a long-standing feud. Arthur has met Alfred. He and his crew are holding Elizabeta, a member of the Resistance, captive and plan on taking her to Yan.  
> Lovino was harassed by a very drunk Sadik, and got saved by a mysterious man who lives across the hall. The man seems to have some sort of interest in him.  
> Tino is still on Nyma, where the Resistance has picked up two young people who seem to be Iramese, though not everything adds up with them. 
> 
> WARNINGS: Suicide attempt (not for the usual reasons though), descriptions of torture and past violence
> 
> Also, don't judge my poetry writing, okay guys? I am not Edgar Allen Poe, I am a sci-fi enthusiast with a love of anime, leave me be.
> 
> Also, some names (all are OCs but they're minor so don't be bitchy)  
> Arshad Teymouri - Ancient Persia/Persian Empire  
> Ayshe - Ottoman Empire (totally ignoring canon which states that Turkey was the Ottoman Empire btw)  
> Gonzorig - Mongol Empire

_Beizaning,_  
Yan,  
4503CC  
(9 YEARS AGO)

The streets were alive this time of night, the festival still in full swing. Women dressed in flowing crimson silk danced across the street; great floats of paper maché and paper streamers formed the shapes of flat-backed snakes, lions, tigers, swans and dragons; the air was filled with the soft, high singing of reed flutes, and the smell of sweetmeats, unleavened bread, spiced wine and incense hung thick in the air. It was the most beautiful the city had ever been. Everyone was dressed in revellers robes, and laughter echoed around inside the clusters of friends situated on every street corner.

It was nearing three in the morning, yet the celebrations did not seem to be ending any time soon. He knew that by the time dawn began to break, he would be confined to a cell, or be hanging with a hemp bag around his face and a noose cinched tight around his neck. He’d already bid farewell to Arshad, though he had had failed to also reach Gonzorig. His heart felt heavy. He was a man of just 27 years, and yet thoughts of his own impending death rattled about his head. He breathed, in, out, in, out. He clenched his fists. Dying for something so futile. With every passing day, they grew further and further out of reach.

He knew of their movements, though, knew where the Union’s most wanted resistance fighter would be in a week’s time. Had he exchanged that information with the guards, they would have dropped the charges. He laughed. Arshad Teymouri’s capture would make the Union very happy. He wasn’t much of a loyalist, however.

He inhaled; the air was definitely thickening, carbon monoxide stealing through the room swiftly. His death would be painless, unlike those of so many others. He inhaled again.

A thought crossed his mind, from all those years ago, a picture published in the newspaper. A small child clutching his grandfather’s leg. He could not clutch at his mother’s; the focus of the article had been about how she was blown to pieces, and her husband along with her. He recalled the condolences given from others, how even people in his apartment block had murmured about how horrible a spectacle it had been. Even Wan-Zi had commented that he pitied the child. Though that was hardly a comfort. Wan-Zi had been the one to wake him the day of the Expansion, with a grin on his face, stating simply “They’re annexing them.”

He had been the only one, he recalled, to hear the rumours of the fates of the Free Court’s royalty and citizens and widen his eyes in horror. Been the only one who had hoped no child had witnessed those events. Wonder if they were truly so horrific. Did they really behead the Daernic queen and impale her husband? Did they really bomb Syhvvanian orphanages? Did they really murder almost all members of Free Court royalty and nobility out of spite? Perhaps most horrifically, he wondered, did they really dig up the corpse of the Syhvvanian ruler’s deceased daughter and nail it to the palace door? He shuddered at the thought. Even Wan-Zi had quieted upon hearing that, finally realising that a line had been crossed.

He inhaled. Dark spots twirled and bobbed about in his vision. The music was growing quieter as his senses began to dull. He laughed again. What joy this was. Would Wan-Zi find him, or Lin-Zia from next door? Perhaps Shu Yang who lived on the first floor.

He could hear footsteps now.

* * *

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra,  
Nyma  
Early in the morning, 12 TH Fybwari

The girl’s eyes were on him again. They were almost accusing, as though he had wronged her in some way. They stared deep, and he felt like any secret he had was being unburdened onto her, albeit unintentionally. He shifted, discomfort evident. She broke her gaze, looking at her lap again. Yao ran his hands through his hair, turning when he heard the tent flaps open. It was Tino, who, despite clearly being exhausted, had brought the would-be recruits food. He saw the attention of both the scrawny girl and the silent boy be caught by the scent of stew and bread. Tino managed a weak smile, handing plates to them. They accepted them graciously, the boy more so than his apparent sister. Yao watched them, rolling his shoulders before deciding to finally talk to them.

“Do you want to join the resistance?” he said simply. He was not educated in the Iramese language, but hopefully, they knew the Common Standard. Luckily for him, they did, as the boy raised his head and spoke.

“Yes, we do.” He nudged his sister, who was eating rapidly beside him. She broke from her reverie and nodded enthusiastically. Yao leaned forward, placing his hands on the table that separated him and the siblings. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Why?” he started, “We are, in the eyes of many, a criminal organisation which is supporting a singularly unpopular group of planets and people. Our members are sent out into war, chaos and extreme danger. They suffer painful injury, starvation and, if captured, are tortured for information and executed.” He paused for a moment. He had both their attentions now. “If you were to join us, you would have to endure all of this and more, despite your young age.” The last part he directed to the girl. “You will have to live with numerous other people from strange and distant planets, and wear clothes that are old or belonged to the long dead. You will be forced to learn very difficult things in a very short amount of time. Not only will you suffer yourselves, you will bring suffering to others. You will hurt, and steal, and kill, if we tell you to. There is little room for morals or ethics here. It is dangerous, and unpleasant, and this war that we are fighting will likely result in your own deaths one day.” He continued, standing up straight and staring them down. “So, I ask you again, do you want to join the resistance?” the pair were silent, and they exchanged a look. The boy made eye contact with him once again, raising his chin.

“Yes, we do.” Yao watched them.

“I see. You are yet to explain why, I see.” The boy rubbed the back of his neck.

“Can we please bathe?” he asked. “I don’t want to make such a bad first impression”. Yao stared him down, and by the way that the girl shrunk back a little, he could tell he had intimidated her. After a long moment of silence, he nodded.

“Tino, see that these two are cleaned. Once they are finished, return them here.”

Tino nodded, gesturing for the two teenagers to follow him. They rose and left the tent silently. Yao leaned forward and rubbed his forehead with his hand.

He inhaled.

* * *

What was that poem again? He knew the words and author, but not the name.

_They stand, quiet_  
hair of moonlight, resting, quiet  
eyes of blue, tearing, quiet,  
skin of porcelain, cracking, quiet  
girl of the northern skies, waiting, silent,  
noose tightening, eyes widening,  
and the girl of the northern skies, quiet

An apt description, he thought. The author had been arrested, as the words were interpreted to be pitying the subject of the poem. Apparently, the author, Hanna Mallür, had witnessed the execution of a young girl from Fynkn, and written it shortly afterwards. It was a brutal and beautiful piece, but the first three lines stood out to him.

Tino was shifting from foot to foot, observing them. The pair didn’t say a word, though the girl was wringing her hands. Yao smiled, ever so slightly.

“Tino, you are in need of rest, surely.” Tino looked up, startled.

“I,” he began, before sighing, looking resigned, “Yes, sir.” Yao nodded to dismiss him, and the sniper exited the tent. He turned back to them, and gestured to the seats behind them.

“Please, sit.” They obeyed, looking grateful. Yao studied them, eyes sweeping across their faces. They were thin – their previous behaviour about the food completely understandable now – but clean. The boy was noticeably taller than his sister, but was also slender, a sign of lifelong malnutrition. The girl was rather petite as a whole, though he could see that she had muscles in her arms. Their eyes had not changed, though now that the thick layer of grime on their skin had been removed, he could see how fair their skin was. Their hair was typical of their ethnicity. The boy’s was closer to white, however, and the girl’s was nearer to silver. Fynknian, without a doubt. This wasn’t what intrigued him, however. They received strays from the Free Courts all the time. But, save for the first year after the expansion, as he’d heard, they were all individuals. But these two came in a pair. The boy was about 18, and the girl was about 15 or 16. Yao didn’t recall ever feeling so much like he was standing on the edge of a precipice. He watched them a moment longer.

“Well?” he said.

* * *

_Onboard the ISS Arbiter_  
Orbiting the planet of Yan,  
4503CC  
(9 YEARS AGO)

Speed was an old evil, particularly when in the hands of your enemies. He cursed it with what few breaths he could take. He’d gone into respiratory arrest a minute after they’d taken him, and had they only been a few minutes later, he would have been dead before they’d even arrived. What a shame it was that he hadn’t started up the motor earlier.

At first, it was just simple interrogation. Unfortunately, through attempting to end it all, he’d only proven that he had valuable information, so they pressed and pressed until the headaches and nausea plaguing him became too severe for him to function.

Then, it was the occasional beating. Pain was an excellent motivator, as everyone who had felt worse than a bruise or scrape knew. He could take them, and they left at the end of the day disappointed, as was normal.

They moved onto worse methods quickly, realising that he would not break. And it was like this, strapped to a table resembling one at a doctor’s office, that he lay screaming. Screaming as they stripped the skin from his hands. They had pealed his fingernails off yesterday, having driven nails underneath them the day before last. He lay, wondering, when he had come to care so much. He had cared, cared about their cause, for Arshad’s sake, and for Gonzorig. He had grown fond of the young Fynknian girl Kari, and had laughed at the antics of the small red-haired Romeo. And a part of him had thought about staying, staying forever, to help them.

He could feel his skin being removed at the second joint of his fingers. He thought of the kind old woman who had been teaching orphaned children to read. They stripped him to his knuckles. He recalled his conversation with an amputee, who’d lost his leg on the day of the expansion. He wasn’t even from the Free Courts – having been born and bred on Jhobras – but he’d been there at the wrong time. Losing a limb would hurt more than getting flayed. If he tilted his head, he could see the white of his finger bones glaring out through the bloody mess that his hands had been reduced to. Think about how good it felt to see the rescue missions succeed. Over hours, they pulled the skin from his hands, to his wrists. His torturer smiled, and ripped it off, pulling more yet from around his wrists. The image of Arshad smiling, almost crying with happiness, when they finally retrieved Silje Krissen, the Fynknian queen’s old handmaid, from her prison within the palace, filled his mind.

The man promised to start taking the skin from his other hand the next week as he wrapped the one he had just destroyed.

He was numb.

* * *

He watched the young Fynknian man in front of him. After a long moment, he exhaled, and extended his hand. It was accepted, by both of them. Yao could feel the tears coming, though he fought them back.

“I don’t want to force yet another alias onto you, your majesty,” he said, “but we must always be wary of spies, even here. I can choose for you, or you can select your own.” The young prince nodded. Lukas Bondevik raised his head, and stared deep into Yao’s soul.

“You have given more to this cause so far than I have, and I think I trust your judgement. You can choose.” Yao thought for a moment.

“The smallest lies are the most effective. You can remain Fynknian, though I feel we should adjust your names. Christensen is a common surname, so I suggest you adopt it.” He frowned, “As for your first names, Lukas is very common, so you should be fine. Emilia, less so.” He considered it a moment, “How about Laila?”

The princess nodded “Laila Christensen, I like it.” Yao nodded, smiling slightly.

“Good. I’ll speak with you about this at length, but another time. You two look exhausted, and I will admit that I am myself.” The siblings nodded. “I will tell only my closest and most trusted associates about your existence, that I promise.” They looked relieved.

“You will have to tell me how you survived this whole time, of course, but for now, you need rest.”

* * *

They beat him. They starved him. They took the skin from his other hand. But he never broke.

After a year, the Arbiter was raided by resistance personnel. Not for him, for another, of course. When they discovered him, he remembered it both as the first time he’d met the bold woman known as Ayshe, and the only time he would ever see her cry. His hands were bloodied, torn ruins. He had no toenails, and weighed only 31 kilograms, making him closely resemble a corpse. He was 28, and his black hair was streaked with white from the stress of being tortured. He doubted that the resistance members who pulled him from his cell had ever handled anyone as gently as him.

Apparently, he’d been spoken of. Arshad had been horrified to find that he’d been taken by the Union, especially considering that he did have valuable information. The other high-ranking officers in the Resistance had reprimanded Arshad harshly, saying that sharing such sensitive information with an outsider (and a Yanish outsider at that) was akin to treason. But when their ships hadn’t been intercepted by the Union, they’d assumed he was dead.

The record for surviving the infamously brutal torture and imprisonment on the Arbiter was about 4 months. He’d been there for 13. So, if nothing else, he had set a record. They took him back to Nyma after they saved him. He had never even considered leaving the resistance since that day.

And when they’d been forced to elect a new leader after Arshad Teymouri was gunned down on Yan three years later, several hundred pairs of eyes had turned to face Yao Wang. And he hadn’t been able to refuse.

He wore gloves at all times, for the skin had never regrown on his hands, and the sight of them turned many people’s stomachs. Exposed muscles and bone that was just barely visible through his flesh. The outsides of them had toughened, of course, and no longer pained him. He had considered dying his hair. After all, he was only 36 years old, and his hair had already begun to make the transition to white. He decided against it. It made him look older than he was, true, but that only worked in his favour. The Union knew of him; an aging Yanish man led the resistance, they liked to say, assuming him to be weak.

They didn’t know his name yet, and for that he was grateful. He often wondered what his neighbours would say. Lin-Xia was pleasant, as was Shu Yang. Wan-Xi was awful, but Yao would have liked to see the look on his face when he realised what his neighbour had become.

Yao, since his imprisonment, had wanted for little. One thing he did desire, however, was to meet his interrogator once more, so he could push a dagger through his throat. Perhaps, if that day came, he would flay him first. Sadistic thoughts, that he kept to himself.

* * *

His mind turned to the young prince and princess. He hoped even more strongly that Kari came home safe, now. He wanted to see the look on her face when she reunited with Lukas. He smiled to himself. People had, due to the fact that he looked older than he was, began calling him the “Father” of the resistance. At first he hadn’t understood it. He had not created this movement, he had only taken over where Arshad had left off. It had taken some time, and eventually an explanation from Matthew, for him to understand.

_“We don’t call you ‘father’ because you created the resistance. We call you that because you treat each of us like your children_.”

Yes, he had a tendency to do that. And now the Fynknian heirs were among those ‘children’. He would try his best to protect them, as he did everyone else.

Because, if there was one thing the Union did know about him for certain, it was that he gave them hell to pay for hurting his children.


	13. The Attacks We Perform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the metaphorical fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, uh, sorry for the like, month-long wait for this, but i've just had a hectic life recently, but i'm free for a while now, so i should be able to write more. 
> 
> Apologies for this chapter, because even though it's a good length, it's primarily combat scenes, and i can't write people fighting to save my own life, so please go easy on me
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- Tori and the Bounty Hunters are at the anchorage, and have met up Captain Kirkland's crew of pirates  
> \- Lukas and Emilia have reached the resistance  
> \- Lovino is still recovering from his injury, and was attacked by Sadik, only to be saved by a mysterious blond  
> \- Several resistance members are planning an attack on the SS Mutiny (Arthur's ship) to save Elizabeta. 
> 
> Warnings:  
> idk, violence, some language, pretty much it
> 
> Please please please comment and tell me what you think!!! :D

* * *

 

_Outer Space,_  
Approaching Yan,  
11th Fybwari

Having to ask for help from pirates was humiliating. Well, not for Matthias, but for Antonio it was, and he could practically feel anger and frustration radiating from Francis when it became apparent that they were effectively stranded. Antonio poured his heart and soul into his ship, so to watch it being towed along behind the SS Mutiny like a reluctant dog on a leash, well, it broke his heart. Louise and the Misori engineers they had encountered in Ryotawari Sansima had done their best, but the damage to their control panels was still too severe for them to get safely back home to Reycass. As they’d been horrified to find, even the trip to the anchorage had been very hard and dangerous for the _Marauder_. So Matthias, the day after the power at the anchorage had been restored, had sucked up his pride, stuck his head in the doorway of the _Mutiny_ , and asked for a huge favour. To their immense surprise, Captain Kirkland had actually accepted, though did warn that they were going to Yan first to deliver their prisoner and gain the reward waiting for them. He did offer to then take them back to Reycass, however, as it wasn’t too far away. Francis had scoffed when Matthias had happily returned, saying that they had a solution. The Rywanian’s face was mottled with dark, threatening bruises from his fight with Kirkland, though the pirate was in a far worse state, with his finger gone.

The blond had cooled down, though, and seemed to actually have a sliver of remorse for what he did to the Captain. It had been a pretty extreme move, on Francis’ part, to actually mutilate him so badly. Though, later in that same day, Kirkland had just remarked that he hoped he didn’t have hepatitis now, which had started a whole new argument. Everyone was sick of their fights, and Antonio had developed a kinship with Gilbert’s cousin, Roderich, with whom he had shared many eye-rolling moments.

But they were finally well on their way. The Daernic prisoner, Elizabeta, had gotten quieter and quieter, according to Roderich. Antonio guessed that she was probably afraid. Knowing how much Yan in particular hated the Free Courts and the resistance, she had a good reason to be. Perhaps she had expected something else, who knew.

Today was the first time he’d actually seen her though. Roderich had insisted that the poor girl be given some time to walk around and sit on something other than the floor. She looked rather despicable honestly, especially considering that she was covered with a solid layer of grime and looked like she hadn’t showered in a fair amount of time. Kirkland was yet to un-gag her, so for now, she was just a silent, very pissed off woman sitting near him. He hoped that she wasn’t able to loosen the ties around her hands, else he would likely be throttled soon. She was aiming a particularly impressive glare at Kirkland, which was kind of amusing to Antonio.

It became less amusing when she began to sing – or, hum – very loudly. The captain afforded her an arched eyebrow, and little else. She continued regardless. If there was one thing that Antonio already admired about this girl, it was how stubborn she was.

He grinned as her humming rose even higher in volume, and Arthur Kirkland’s eyebrows began to twitch. Deciding to put the captain out of his misery, Antonio decided to engage him in conversation.

“So, where’s the rest of your crew? Last I saw you there were almost twenty of you guys.”

Kirkland shifted, turning and leaning against the counter, folding his arms.

“Well, my crew was getting too big. I decided that I had to be more exclusive.” He shrugged, “Some left for other lines of work, others disagreed, though they came around to my point of view fairly quickly.” Yes, Antonio was certain that they had. Knowing Kirkland, those that had gained too much self-importance were either threatened or pushed out of the airlock.

“Good for them.” He commented airily. The captain smirked slightly. Antonio cocked his head, “So, who is still here?”

“Oh, well, some of the most talented of my old crew. Leon, Roderich and Mei, obviously. Eduard, Yael and Natalya as well. They’re on Jhobras, though, collecting an overdue payment.”

Antonio nodded. Eduard was one of the most tolerable on the old crew, mostly existing for technological and communication purposes. Yael was nice enough, though the Iramese girl was rather sour sometimes. Natalya Arlovskaya, though, he shuddered at. She had long been the most intimidating of Arthur’s crew. She was Ivan’s half-sister, and terrifying at that. Even Ivan was afraid of her. Natalya accounted for at least 80% of their crew’s physical strength, too.

He was snapped from his reverie by Elizabeta, once more trying to sing through her gag. Kirkland stared at her for a long moment, brow furrowed, then groaned in resignation. He strode towards her, and pulled the gag from her mouth. Her singing stopped immediately, and she smiled sweetly at him, sitting back with a satisfied grin on her face.

Antonio couldn’t help but laugh, ignoring the deepening scowl on Kirkland’s face.

* * *

_Onboard the LWSS Libertas_

Matthew was glad that he had friends in as many places as he did. Tracking down the ship belonging to Arthur Kirkland wasn’t that hard, considering how infamous both the man and machine were. Getting someone to track his movements all the way to the Garsinon Anchorage was harder. Getting in touch with someone who could drop the power field around the anchorage for a sufficient time for their ship to get within range was very hard. But Matthew was well-liked, and not just by other resistance.

He drew in a deep breath, eyes skimming over the radar. The SS Mutiny was well within range for attack, and it had been for a time now. They had to make their move soon. The pirates didn’t seem to have realised that they were being followed yet; something they could attribute to their new cloaking device. They were rapidly approaching Yan, though the ship was going slower than it should have been.

But Matthew was cautious. Another, smaller ship was being towed behind the Mutiny, and judging by the look and make, belonged to a similar group of criminals. That meant that there were likely more people on that ship than they wanted there to be. Though it helped, as the ship would take longer to get to its destination, it would also prove difficult once they were on board. The people whose ship they were towing might be friends, which would complicate things.

He hoped that they were able to rescue Elizabeta after all. she was important, not just to them but to the whole of the resistance as well. If they failed, not only would Liz be taken to Yan, but there was a high chance that they would be too. The mere thought made him go cold all over. Though he’d never seen the direct effects of the Union’s torture, Yao had warned them against getting captured enough for him to deduce that it was some whole new kind of hell. Matthew sighed, rubbing his temples as he attempted to shove the dark thoughts away. There was a knock on the door, and he turned as Abel entered. His tall friend’s face was grave, and he knew without having to be told.

It was time.

* * *

Feliks should have known that Tori would be an expert at poker. Aralos was a den of questionable behaviour, prolific gambling among them. Arthur, Gilbert and another pirate, Leon, could do little more than groan as she once again swept her earnings off the table and into her lap, now full of coins, gum, three packets of cigarettes and a single earring. She grinned widely, thanking them with an exaggerated flourish as she pocketed her winnings, placing another small fistful of coins on the table to start the next round. Tori yelled out for anyone else that wanted to join in to place their bets. With a little coaxing, both Francis and Berwald joined in their game. That was one of the most unusual things of the day. Berwald could be quite no-nonsense most of the time, so it was both strange and refreshing to see him joining in. Feliks only put in a small amount this round. He didn’t want to give Tori all his money. He stifled a grin when he saw his cards, though. Maybe he wouldn’t be swept out of the running so quickly this time.

He was wrong, and within a half-hour, Tori had collected every bit of money off the table once more. Francis rolled his eyes, sagging back in his chair. He had been spectating for a while before he joined in, and looked at the table with wide eyes.

“This is bullshit.” He moaned, “How are you winning every round?” Tori winked at him.

“Talent, my friend. It’s called talent.”

“It’s called bullshit,” he retorted, causing Gilbert to snort with laughter. He tossed down his cards, sighing.

“Well,” Tori said gleefully, “Anyone else want to join in?”

* * *

Ivan was the one who noticed, though, it was far too late. He was the one who heard the low whispering noise, of an incoming ship, who looked out the windows and yelled a warning just before the lightweight ship slammed into theirs. None of them was able to make it to the airlocks in time to seal them externally, and Arthur just grimaced as he picked up a shotgun, expecting hostile guests. A silent conversation occurred between those of them still seated at the poker table. Arthur disappeared down the hallway with Francis in tow, off to see who was bombarding the ship, leaving Feliks, Tori, Berwald and Gilbert in the parlour room.

Later, Feliks would regret not going with them.

* * *

The ship had gone into emergency mode, which was the least helpful mode to be in for an actual emergency. Being slammed into and then forcibly boarded had no doubt activated said emergency mode, and Arthur hated it whenever it happened. Firstly, the loud sirens were unhelpful. He already knew they had been boarded, and the flashing red lights were just impairing his vision. They couldn’t move the ship while the two were connected by the boarding tunnel, lest they wanted to all be sucked into the vacuum of space and killed, so for now, the best course of action was to meet them head on. He always hated it when combat turned out to be the best route.

A part of him couldn’t believe that the _Mutiny_ was actually being boarded. Usually, his personal infamy was enough to keep potential hostiles away, and he honestly couldn’t even remember the last time his ship had been attacked, other than by law enforcement. And these weren’t law enforcement, that he already knew.

Perhaps more surprising than the fact of being attacked, was that Francis had opted to come with him. Usually, the blond tried to keep his distance, and Arthur was only too happy to maintain it. Evidently, though, Francis considered the prospect of being attacked more important than their personal rivalry. For now, he had to agree. He held up a hand, Francis halting behind him, when he heard slight shuffling. The two of them were completely motionless, and Arthur could even hear Francis muffling the sound of his breathing.

The sound of footsteps met his ears, and he tensed, preparing himself.

* * *

Tori, for the first time since leaving Aralos, actually felt completely in her element. Trying to fend off unwanted visitors with what would – presumably – be violent methods? That was one thing that she knew how to do. She might get nauseous in zero-gravity, and not understand forcefields very well, but she could kick the ass of anyone who tried to take what was hers. She could feel Feliks’ breath on her neck, and tempted as she was to tell him to move over a little, it was comforting, to know that should it come to a physical confrontation, she would not be fighting alone. She felt her breath catch when the slight noise of the doors opening reached her ears. She flung her hand out behind her, grabbing Feliks by the shirt. His hand wrapped around her wrist, firm but gentle. Tori felt her breathing ease a little at that. It eased further when a now-familiar voice echoed out from the shadows.

“Guys? Are any of you in here?”

“Roderich!” Gilbert said, a note of definite relief in his voice. Gilbert and his cousin did have a habit of sniping at one another, and threw around simple jibes and insults freely. But they definitely had that familial love whose existence they were so fond of denying. Tori didn’t know Roderich well, but she was also glad to see he was alright.

“Do you know what’s going on?” she heard him mutter. There was a slight scraping noise as Gilbert moved his chair, no doubt to get to his cousin.

“We’ve been boarded, we don’t know who by yet.” Oh, Tori could guess who was boarding. It wasn’t law enforcement – the ship didn’t match their normal profile. It was unlikely that it was some rival band of criminals, since anyone worth their infamy would instead stage a confrontation somewhere on-planet. So that really only left one probable perpetrator. Her gaze drifted from Feliks, who was fiddling with the knives he had pulled from his belt, to the girl from the Resistance. She was sitting silently against the wall, quiet even though her gag had been removed.

“It’s the Resistance.” Tori declared, certain of the conclusion that she had come to. “It has to be. We have one of their fighters, don’t we?” she gestured to the girl as she spoke, drawing everyone else’s attention. Gilbert straightened from his half-hunched position near his cousin, eyes narrowing.

“If it is the Resistance, then it’s pretty obvious what we should do then.” They all turned to look at him. He shrugged. “If it is them, I vote we let her go. I’m not going to forfeit my life for someone else’s prisoner.” Tori nodded, for once completely agreeing with him. Berwald’s facial expression hadn’t changed all day, so who knew how he felt about the whole thing. It was, surprisingly, Roderich who dissented.

“I understand your reasoning, but no. I think Arthur would actually murder me if we let her go.” Gilbert whirled around.

“It doesn’t matter how much money she’s worth! I’ve encountered the Resistance before, Roderich, you and the fucking captain haven’t. They don’t understand mercy; they have nothing left to lose. Killing us would be considered fucking sensible to them. I love money as much as the next person, but I won’t die for it.”

Roderich levelled a glare at his cousin, before delivering a simple statement which stunned them all.

“She’s worth 100 million marks, actually.” Tori’s mouth dropped open. She was fairly certain that all of Aralos’ riches combined wouldn’t even come close to 100 million marks. They’d be pressed getting to about 30 million, in all honesty. And yes, her view might be skewed because of how poor her home planet was, but judging by the look on the other’s faces, it was a lot of money even to them. Gilbert kept opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, mouthing the words ‘100 million’ silently. Roderich nodded in response to their unspoken questions.

“She’s one of their most skilled fighters, and Daernic as well, which ramps up her value a fair amount.” Tori’s stomach jolted uncomfortably at the last part. She herself was Daernic, and she knew that they were rare, but she hadn’t known that handing them into the Union was profitable. She could feel Feliks’ eyes on her, but he said nothing. She wrapped her arms around herself, glad more than ever that she had dyed her hair.

“Still”, Gilbert spluttered in shock. But his tone was significantly less confident now, and he was looking at the girl, Elizabeta, with a familiar emotion in his eyes – greed. Their conversation was silenced by the swishing noise of the doors opening again. Tori raised her head, expecting another of her friends.

A pair of unfamiliar, green eyes met hers. They belonged, also, to a stranger, much taller and stronger-looking than herself, with a wicked scar above one of his eyes. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. The man levelled an assault rifle at her face, fingers dancing over the trigger. A shout beside her was the only warning she had before Feliks shoved her to the floor. The bullets passed so close to the top of her head, she could feel the rush of air along her scalp. If she hadn’t moved, she would have been shot directly through the eyes. She felt Feliks’ hand on her back ease, and then disappear. She looked up, only to see that Berwald had locked his hands around the man’s gun, and the two were engaged in an intense tug-of-war.

Berwald had always been strong, likely the strongest of their entire group, but he had finally found a worthy challenger. For one, he’d finally found someone as tall as him. She started slightly, upon noting that Berwald’s pocketknife was lodged in the intruder’s lower stomach. But still he fought, even as Feliks jumped up from his place on the floor to join the fray.

Right when it seemed apparent that Berwald and Feliks would succeed in their shared quest to disarm the man, the doors opened again, bearing another man. Unlike his fellow, this one wore a respirator-style mask to obscure the lower half of his face, and had a black, hooded jacket that couldn’t quite hide the long, wavy blond tied back behind his head. He seemed to observe the scene in just a moment; taking in Berwald and Feliks grappling with his friend, Tori on the floor still feeling the shock from being shot at, Roderich, who had now grabbed the Daernic prisoner, and Gilbert, who had pulled out his glock and was preparing to fight. The newcomer watched them a moment, before raising his firearm and shooting Feliks without hesitation.

Tori screamed, hurtling across the room to get to where he had staggered and fallen to his knees, clutching where blood was splattering from his right side to the floor. Berwald whirled, shouting in alarm. He was distracted for only a moment, but that was clearly enough. The first intruder ripped his gun from Berwald’s hands and struck him across the face with it, with more force than Tori had expected. The second intruder seized Tori by her hair before she could reach Feliks, throwing her backwards. Her back connected with one of the overturned chairs on the ground, her side emitting a worrying cracking noise as pain flooded her ribs. Completely winded, she gasped as she struggled to get up again. The second fighter wrapped one of his hands around her neck, squeezing hard as he shoved her down again.

“Stay down,” she heard, black spots swirling in her vision. Distantly, she heard a shout of fury, absently recognising it as Gilbert’s voice. The pressure was gone from her windpipe a moment later, and she rolled onto her front, heaving as her lungs struggled to drag in air. She could hear more yelling and cursing, before she was being dragged by her hair again, this time by the first intruder. He pushed her onto her front, knee pressing into the small of her back as she struggled. Panic flooded her system and she screamed, thrashing around wildly as the man continued to try to contain her. Like hell she’d let some piece of scum like this touch her. Tori stalwartly ignored the aching in her side as she struggled to free herself. She could see Gilbert grappling with the second intruder, managing to get the man’s knife away from him before promptly throwing himself at the man restraining her. He was knocked clean off her, and she staggered to her feet, whirling around and trying to take in the scene around her.

Though he’d been completely immersed in attacking Gilbert before, the second of the intruders didn’t move back toward the resurging fight when he had retrieved his knife. Instead he crossed the room to Elizabeta, who was now unattended, and with a single flick of the knife, cleaved right through the thick restraints holding her. Elizabeta shook her hands out once or twice, and nodded to the man, relief clear on her face as a radiant grin nearly split it in half. She accepted a knife from her friend, shook her hair out, and charged at them.

* * *

Francis gritted his teeth as he again felt the fiery girl’s foot connect with his ribs. He was back-to-back with Kirkland, and for once, couldn’t even bring himself to care. They were surrounded; two of them against three fierce women that were intent on gutting them both. They’d come out of nowhere and started kicking their asses. Francis bit out a curse, flipping his knife in his hand nervously. He was worried about their own predicament, true, but he was almost more worried about the others. Tori, Feliks, Gilbert and Berwald were still in the living room with Roderich. Louise and Antonio had been examining some manuals to fix their ship’s damaged panels in her room, and the others of Arthur’s crew, along with Ivan, had been in the kitchen getting lunch. As he ran his mental inventory, Francis’ heart sank as he realised that he had no idea where either Matthias or Alfred were. Hopefully, neither of them was getting caught up in another conflict.

That hope was dashed only a moment later, when the Nymian girl on Francis’ right was promptly knocked off her feet by a rather distressed-looking Alfred, who hollered in anger upon spotting how Francis and Arthur were already injured. Using their momentary distraction, Arthur lunged at one of the others, closer to the door. She growled, sounding almost animalistic, and quickly began to fight back. The automatic doors behind them opened, exposing the wide walkway between them and the tunnel which connected the intruders’ ship to their own. Francis could hear shouting from the hallway he and Arthur had come in now, and snarled as the final of the three slammed into him, knife whirling around his face. He shifted his knee upwards, driving it right into her stomach.

The girl lurched, clutching at her abdomen, at which point Francis took the opportunity to roundhouse kick her in the side. As she crumpled to the ground, the doors opened again, revealing Mei, Leon, Ivan, Antonio and Louise, who must have heard their shouting. When they set eyes on them, the group of five immediately rushed forward to drive back the intruders. Francis groaned in relief, glad that their backup had finally arrived. The girl he’d knocked down staggered to her feet, dragging the Nymian one, as well as the girl attacking Arthur – who he could now see was Fynknian – with her towards the doors leading to the docking bay. Arthur, somehow still conscious after being pistol-whipped numerous times, grunted in frustration and threw out his hand, catching the last girl by the ankle as she made to move past him. She was promptly slammed to the floor, yelping in surprise and pain as Arthur tightened his grip.

“No one attacks my ship.” He hissed menacingly at her. She kicked at his face, struggling as her friends clawed at his hand in an attempt to free her. Arthur held stubbornly on, though, not even flinching as their nails and knives broke the skin and made blood run down his wrist. Francis scrambled to help him as Matthias came charging down the hallway, driving his knife into the Nymian girl’s leg without a moment of hesitation. She didn’t make a single noise, but jerked roughly away from their leader and stumbled backwards, his knife still embedded hilt-deep in her thigh.

As Francis saw Antonio and Leon move to attack yet again, a scream met his ears. His gaze swivelled over to where the Nymian girl had opened the airlock to their ship, a triumphant grin on her face. But it wasn’t her who made the noise.

Not a moment later, another set of doors down the hall burst open, revealing, to his horror, two more armed intruders, as well as Arthur’s prisoner Elizabeta. But that horrified him far less than who they were dragging with them. Elizabeta had a very battered-looking Tori held by the hair, and was hauling her across the room. One of the other intruders, a man wearing a respirator, had an unconscious Feliks draped across his shoulders. The last of them, and the tallest, was holding Gilbert by his jacket collar like a disobedient dog, and was marching Roderich along at gunpoint. The Fynknian girl plunged her dagger through Arthur’s palm, finally managing to force him to let go of her, and ran towards her friends as the last girl pointed her assault rifle at them threateningly before slamming her hand onto the panel by the door which closed them. Being clear, however, they could still see what was happening beyond, even as they all began to pound on the doors and try to open them.

The Fynknian and the Nymian grabbed Roderich – now beginning to struggle wildly, and unceremoniously threw him into their ship. Feliks, who Francis could now see was bloody and pale, was next. Freed of his burden, the shorter of the two men grabbed Tori from Elizabeta as the now ex-prisoner darted inside their ship, no doubt to pilot it. She was shrieking and kicking wildly as she was pulled by her long hair to the door. For a moment, Francis was able to see her face clearly – expression wide, shocked and terrified, before she joined Roderich and Feliks. Mei shouted in victory as the doors slid open again, and those who could still stand rushed into the hallway.

But it was too little, too late, and they could do nothing more than watch as Gilbert, drenched in red and gagged heavily, disappeared behind two layers of doors on the airlock. Francis caught a glimpse of some of the Resistance fighters through the rapidly narrowing gap, dragging their friends further into the ship.

Then, a loud mechanical noise began as the ship withdrew and moved away from theirs, and, with the bright, piercing light that accompanied a ship jumping to hyper-speed, they were gone.  


	14. The Exhaustion We Endure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yay, another update! Sorry to leave you guys on a cliffhanger (not really, lol, suffer)  
> This is pretty low-intensity (read: zero intensity) I'm kinda building up to different things at this point. I hope to have the two chapters after this out in quick succession, then relax a lil bit.
> 
> RECAP:  
> 1\. Tori, Gilbert, Feliks and Roderich have been kidnapped by the Resistance, who did so while freeing their friend Elizabeta from pirate captivity. Feliks has been shot. The remaining bounty hunters and pirates alike are now in disarray.  
> 2\. Lovino was assaulted by a drunk Sadik, and saved by a mysterious young man who lives across the hallway to him.  
> 3\. Lukas and Emilia have reached the resistance (literally nothing new to add here)
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> ugh, nothin
> 
> Sidenote, this is (last i checked) the second longest chapter of the story so far! which means that i am good at writing about nothing!  
> Ppppppllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssssseeeeeeee cccccoooooommmmeeeennnnntttttt!

* * *

 

His body was on fire.

Surely, it had to be. Nothing else could bring so much pain. Nothing else could make his skin feel like embers burned right beneath it’s surface. Nothing else could make his side feel like the skin had split open and leaving his organs gaping, exposed, to the elements. His lungs ached with every breath that they struggled to draw in; they felt heavy and thick, as if smoke had formed a thick layer inside them. He couldn’t move – every part of him felt like it was made of stone, weighed down, heavy and cumbersome.

He gained only brief respite, and rarely at that. There were days when he would lie in agony, wanting to scream but having forgotten how. He felt disconnected from his own body; like the only thing linking them together was the pain. Occasionally, he would slip deeper, down in the dark places where the pain could not reach him. He was always drawn from it soon enough, though, as though those tending his body wanted him to suffer as long as possible.

_(he couldn’t even fault them for that)_

On the days where he was freed from feeling, he would dream. Or perhaps, the dreams were memories. He’d thought that they were at first. Had thought that he had the chance to relive moments from a simpler time. He’d learned quickly enough. These dreams were pleasant, or, they were until those outside began to try and rouse him. The moment that the pain began to return, he would watch with horror as the faces of old loved ones would melt and merge and scream for blood. He would watch as faintly-remembered buildings crumbled into disrepair, and the sky blackened and burned. And when the sky began to burn, his body would soon follow.

Then the pain would be back, and he would want for anything else. He would wish for an awakening, for surely the universe hadn’t become so horrifying that this was reality.

_(but then he would remember the look on his mother’s face as his father broke his arm and knocked one of his teeth out on his ninth birthday)_

And he would remember that this could be a reality. That it could be the truth, because the truth was uglier than deceit, in most cases. And he would want to cry, scream about how this was unfair, about how he’d never done anything to deserve treatment like he had received.

_(but who would listen to him anyway? First he was an unwanted bastard, then he was a neglected bastard, and now he was just a criminal bastard)_

That was life. Good people got treated badly.

_(if he could be considered a good person in the first place)_

He didn’t want to be in pain, but he didn’t want to feel nothing either. He just wanted everything to stop, to exist in blessed purgatory.

_(he just wanted it to be over – hadn’t he suffered enough? Had the painful impact of a grown man’s fist on a child’s body – burned into his mind since infancy – not taught him what he was worth?)_

No, apparently not.

* * *

There had been many minutes of crying, followed by the delighted laughter and smiles of their reunions after they had managed to detach their ship from that of the pirates and flee. These interactions were predominantly between Kari and Elizabeta, though she herself had been eager to see her close friend again. The moment they had managed to pause and consider the night’s events, however, their attention was quickly turned elsewhere.

Bella watched the group curiously. The four of them seemed to remain huddled together constantly. Not for warmth – it was temperate enough here – but not for plotting either. The mics they had placed around the room would have picked it up. Night by night, they received the same sounds; muttered curses and anxious musings from three of their four prisoners. Their distress was evident, and the cause obvious.

He was running a fever again, or he had been a few hours ago, when she’d last bothered to check. The bounty hunters that they had chained didn’t even try to fight her, save for the fiery Pyndaphian-looking girl, who glared and spat curses at her every time, straining against her bonds to get closer to her friend. Bella had been a little shocked upon seeing the four prisoners that Abel and Matthew had managed to acquire from their rescue mission.

There was the albino; by far the most physically distinctive of the group, inflicted with red eyes and silver hair as he was, who they had to constantly keep gagged. The first time they had tried to remove it, he’d screamed up a storm, shouting in Common and Incandan until the words blurred together in a indistinguishable, angry tirade. The second time, he had sunk his teeth half an inch deep in Kari’s arm. She had promptly dislocated his jaw with the strength of the kick she had aimed at his face, and refused to set it right for an entire day. The group had taken to referring to him as ‘Ghoul’, both for his unusual appearance and his vicious nature.

The second was the one Elizabeta had started to mockingly call ‘the gentleman’, distinguishable only by his dark mop of hair and aristocratic features. Though Liz may have mocked him, she did tend to treat him better than the other three, offering only the explanation that ‘he was the most decent of them’. By ‘them’, Bella assumed the pirates which had taken her captive. He took food and water without complaint, and rarely raised a ruckus about anything. He was often the one who held back Ghoul when he was attempting to attack them, or fed him when his arms were chained behind his back. Bella would have guessed that they had some sort of friendship or relation otherwise.

The third was the Pyndaphian girl. Well, Bella had originally believed she was Pyndaphian. Kari, with her endlessly sharp gaze, had noted darkness at the roots of her hair, and, though not commenting on it directly to the girl, theorised that she could be on the run from some other planet, and disguising herself as Pyndaphian to avoid the authorities. They had started to refer to her as ‘Eslin’, after a character from the iconic _Saga de Lauras_ , an overdramatised comedy piece about the budding romance between a Pyndaphian girl and a rapskor (a primitive race of creatures which resembled overgrown dogs). Bella recalled little about the _Saga de Lauras_ , except that it was one of the most offensive things to come out of Wasim Baka’s workshop in 20 years. ‘Eslin’ didn’t give them that much trouble, unless they tried to approach Prisoner #4.

#4 was by far Bella’s favourite, because he gave them no trouble at all. he was the other Pyndaphian in the group, and she was fairly certain she had heard the Gentleman refer to him as ‘Felecks’, though his Incandan accent was likely butchering the actual pronunciation. Kari, feeling vicious, had insisted on referring to him as ‘Phantom’. Every time she referred to him as such, Bella swore she saw ‘Eslin’ tear up, and look even more worried. She’d made Kari stop after a while, though the Fynknian girl had been annoyed at her for doing so.

Yes, Bella disliked their captives based purely on their profession, but she wasn’t sadistic. They were still people, and even if they weren’t deserving of luxury, they still deserved respect. Kari didn’t seem to fully grip that concept, however. Her experiences on Fynkn, and the losses she had suffered had hardened her into a brutal, callous person. Bella often wished she could see who Kari had been before the expansion. If she was the sort of person to happily spend time with an eight-year-old and gain that child’s friendship, as she had done with her planet’s prince; then surely, she had been a nice one.

A pity that she was gone now. Bella watched the prisoners a moment longer, refusing to let the pity she felt for them show on her face.

Their current hideout was far from ideal, small and rundown as it was. But they hadn’t really had much of a choice. After saving Elizabeta from the pirates and snagging their new captives, they really had to book it out of there. Their altercation with Kirkland and his bounty hunter friends had managed to catch the attention of the Yanish authorities who monitored the open space in the extensively large Kyrs System. Their jump to hyperspeed had been only midly helpful, and they knew that the Yanish ships could track virtually anything, so, finding no real option, they’d made a quick decision to stop over on Galee, deciding that the anchorage was too risky as the last stop made by the pirate crew. From there, they’d wrangled their way around the mildly anti-human atmosphere on the planet to score lodgings. Galee was a predominantly mountainous planet, and this fact was visible even in the small settlement which they had landed near. The place that they had managed to secure was located high up, in a hilly suburb. It was no more than a wooden shack, propped in between the thick, leafy plants which reminded her of rainforests.

It was a nice enough place, she thought. The view out the windows was certainly nicer than what she was used to, and seeing the layer of mist that covered the thick forested areas every morning was far preferable to the dry, red plains that Nyma normally offered. Seeing so many Garvich was a little disarming, she would admit. Bella had never been somewhere that had so many of them. They were already a somewhat intimidating species, but when combined with the xenophobia typical of Galee, they unsettled her.

The Garvich race, called the Galeeivi in their own tongue, were the natives inhabitants of Galee, and some of it’s only inhabitants. They were so famous for their dislike of humans – one of the most widespread species this side of the universe – that up until about 50 years ago, they had refused to let any even enter their planet. Joining the Union had forced them to open their doors, and though they would never be completely comfortable with humans, they tolerated them.

Well, most of them. One type of human that they couldn’t stand were, as they called them, ‘taints’ – people born from incestuous relationships. Taints were very rare nowadays, but the Garvich had never faltered in their hatred of them. To an outsider, it would appear to be blind hatred, but Bella had studied different planets and cultures as part of her education in the Resistance, and knew that no race in the galaxy that had survived as long as the Garvich was so simple-minded. Almost all Garvich held to the Dahlk-Mar’so faith, which worshipped only one god, Reirmasta. Reirmasta was such a lenient and progressive god that many people outside Galee adopted the faith as well. The tale was well known, and fairly straightforward.

Reirmasta was once a mortal Galeeivi, but had been blessed with strong magical gifts because of the purity of their soul. Reirmasta had struggled to show the backwards, conservative people of the time what they should truly be doing with their lives. After years, they had succeeded, and accumulated a large following of other Garvich. But one of the old conservative leaders, Listolas, grew to hate Reirmasta for their teachings, and had disguised herself as a supporter to get close to Reirmasta. Eventually, when given the opportunity, Listolas attacked and killed Reirmasta, angering her many followers. But that was not the most violent part of the tale. According to legend, Listolas had committed the crime on the orders of her father Falshek, whose wife had been his sister, as such things were allowed by the old system. Falshek had desired revenge, as his wife and Listolas’ mother had been killed by a supporter of Reirmasta for following the conservative system. When Reirmasta’s supporters caught Listolas and Falshek, they injected boiling water into Listolas’ veins to ‘cleanse’ her of the evil in her blood, before hanging her and her father.

The same methods were still used today, on people born from incest. Though nowadays, that brutal step was prolonged, as the poor victim was normally hunted like an animal before their execution. Bella didn’t agree with incest; she had two brothers, so it would be awkward and gross if she did, but she also didn’t agree with killing people for that reason.

Garvich were able to simply sniff out taints. Their blood had a distinct scent, apparently. Instead of smelling like a mixture of two different, distinct people, they smelled oddly, without the extra complexity. It would be like comparing the smell of potatoes to the smell of a spicy Jhobrasian curry. One had layers and layers, and the other was simpler. Garvich could easily detect the difference.

And their sense of smell extended pretty far.

* * *

_Onboard the SS Mutiny,  
16 th Fybwari_

“For the last time, I can’t fucking find anything!”

Arthur whirled away from the console, brow pinching as he rubbed at his temples. This was quickly proving impossible.

“You mean to tell me you actually _don’t_ microchip your crew members? I am legitimately surprised.” That snide comment belonged to Francis, the prick. Arthur sighed, too exhausted to both glaring at him. They’d been scanning the area for days now, but had been unable to find any sign of the rebel ship or their friends. He stared at the screen for a moment longer, as it brought up yet another page saying that there was no sign of them, before groaning and shutting off the system. The cocky Rywanese bounty hunter, Matthias, had insisted they use their tracking system to try and find their kidnapped friends. Normally, Arthur would have scoffed at this and ignored them, but the rebels had taken Roderich as well, and Arthur wasn’t about to give up one of the more effective workers on his crew.

They had been working tirelessly ever since they’d been taken, and Arthur knew that if he didn’t sleep soon, he’d just keel right over. Francis wasn’t helping, especially given that, with his headache beginning to rage again, Arthur’s severed finger was also starting to throb in protest. He gritted his teeth against the pain and, stalwartly ignoring the persistent and familiar pain in his head, straightened up to face the others. Francis was frowning, but for once, he was blessedly silent.

Arthur shook his head “There’s no sign of them. Either they aren’t in open space anymore, or they’ve left the system.” He turned a little, staring out at the dark, star-speckled view, before continuing, “I may be able to track their movements through a Cell, if any of them have one, but I don’t personally have the expertise to do it. We’d need to retrieve Eduard from Jhobras so he can do it.” He could see Matthias nodding, but some other members of their crew didn’t look like they agreed. The girl with short blond hair, Louise, if he wasn’t mistaken, looked very reluctant to leave the system. Arthur knew she was Gilbert’s younger sister, so he understood her hesitation, but as far as he knew, it was the only way to potentially get them back.

One of the other bounty hunters, a tall man named Berwald who had suffered quite the beating from the rebels, explained as much to her. She unfolded her arms; which had until then been locked around her middle, and nodded, still looking somewhat despondent. Arthur had to admit, he was a little worried too. Roderich had skill with people, and could probably keep himself alive without too much trouble, but the other three were worrisome. The only one of them that Arthur even slightly knew was Feliks, since he was Matthias’ second in command. A light-hearted but threatening young man, and someone who could probably fight his way out. If Arthur hadn’t seen the garish bullet wounds strewn across his torso when the rebels had hauled him into their ship, he wouldn’t have been as worried, but gunshot wounds were nothing to laugh at – that, he knew from experience – and he doubted the rebels would spare much medicine on a bounty hunter like him.

Maybe it was a little cold of him, but he’d already started mapping out rescue missions for three people, as well as those for four.

“Listen,” Alfred said, eyes on Arthur as he clearly took in his exhaustion, “We’re all tired from searching, and so far, staying awake for ridiculous hours hasn’t done much to help. Why don’t we all go rest up a bit, then we can plan our next steps, yeah?”

Arthur could have hugged him when the others started to nod and separate to go and sleep. His whole body was filled with a bone-deep weariness, and not just from searching. His headache flared, as if to remind him of it’s presence. Like he could have forgotten. Arthur leaned against the wall and rubbed his temples, appreciating the newfound quiet, looking up only when he realised that Alfred was still standing there, watching him. He paused in his ministrations, and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“When I said that we all need more rest, I meant _all_ of us.” Alfred said. Arthur ran a hand through his hair, turning to the console.

“It’ll be easier if I plot a course to Jhobras first, so we can travel and rest at the same time.” He argued, moving to do just that when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, scowling slightly when he saw the concerned look on the bubbly man’s face. He wasn’t accustomed to people touching him, and definitely not people that he had known for such a short time. But there was  something in Alfred’s bright blue eyes that disarmed him, and made his tense muscles relax just a little.

“I can plot the course, Toni taught me how, so you,” he jerked his head to the side, “go sleep. Even if I get it wrong, we can just correct it tomorrow.” Arthur was shaking his head before Alfred had even finished his sentence.

“I can do it, okay? Stop whining.”

“I’m not whining! I’m worried!” he said. Arthur paused, staring at him in confusion.

“Worried? About what?” this boy made no sense, he swore–

“What am I worried about? Uh, you! I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep the entire time we’ve been on board, and you look like a wreck man. You already lost a finger this week, but you barely rested after that, too, according to Mei.” Arthur allowed his mind a single moment to wonder why Alfred had been asking Mei about him before his irritation reared its head.

“Why don’t you mind your own business? I’m fine, and in any case, I barely know you, so I don’t know why you’re so concerned.”

Alfred was silent for a moment, before Arthur heard him sigh. When he turned, Alfred had drawn himself up to his full height (which was admittedly impressive), and crossed his arms, a pout on his face. Arthur might have been intimidated if Alfred didn’t currently look like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Soooo, you’re one of _those_.” Alfred sighed. Arthur raised his eyebrows again.

“ _One of those_? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know, the ‘I can do everything by myself because I don’t need people at all and I’m completely self-sufficient’ kind of people.” Alfred said, throwing on a ridiculously high-pitched voice that had Arthur equally wanting to punch him and laugh.

“I don’t sound like that.”

Alfred grinned, “Yeah, you kind of do.” Arthur could feel his anger rising.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!”

“No. I. Don’t.”

“Yes, yes you do!” Alfred was laughing, and Arthur was just as tempted to smack the smile off his face as he was to enjoy it. Arthur just groaned, not wanting to further spend time arguing with this idiot, and turned back to his task. Alfred leaned down a little. “How about this,” he said, “I’ll stop talking like that,” Arthur looked at him with interest, “…if you go and get some rest.” And Arthur was scowling again.

“I just have a few more coordinates to enter and then our course will be done,” he huffed, “I would have finished by now if you hadn’t been interrupting and distracting me.” Alfred grinned, looking proud of himself.

“But you wouldn’t have had my wonderful company, now would you?” Alfred teased, leaning forward and winking.

Arthur loathed himself for blushing.

He went to continue the argument, but his words died in his mouth when he spotted Leon standing by the door. Alfred followed his gaze and spotted the quiet Yanish boy. Arthur sighed, turning back to Alfred.

“When I’m done here I’ll sleep, okay? Will that get you the fuck off my back?” Alfred grinned at his words.

“That’s all I wanted!” he said cheerily, crossing the room to the door, raising a hand in farewell as he did. “Sleep well!” Arthur only rolled his eyes in response, before gesturing to Leon as he continued putting coordinates into the console. Leon’s footsteps were nearly silent – a gift that he had – but Arthur’s many years of piracy had sharpened his ears.

“Is there something you needed, Leon?” he asked wearily. Though he might have denied it, Alfred was right; he really did need to sleep. The boy was silent for a moment.

“I was just wondering, about the latest haul, from that Misori whistle-blower.” Arthur tried not to clench his teeth. This shit again?

“And?” he managed to choke out. Leon watched him passively for a moment.

“And, we don’t all get equal shares of the haul. I don’t think it’s fair, seeing as we all contributed equally.” Arthur sighed audibly, pinching his nose.

“I pay all my underlings equally, Leon.”

“But you get more.”

“Yes, because I’m the Captain of this crew, and it’s my ship which we’re all being carted around in, unless you’ve somehow forgotten that fact.”

Leon narrowed his eyes. “You remind us nearly every day.”

“Well then, that must be a testament to how bad your own memory is.” Arthur sniper back. He could tell from how Leon bristled in indignation that he was trying hard not to punch him in the face. He didn’t particularly care if Leon was worried about his pay-check, however. It wasn’t as though the boy had any major expenses like he did. As far as Arthur was concerned, Leon was another greedy human getting annoyed because he felt like he was entitled to things that he wasn’t. Arthur didn’t feel obligated to entertain him, though, not at this hour.

He cut him off as Leon opened his mouth to talk again. “Unless this is some pressing issue that _couldn’t_ _possibly_ be resolved at another time, please stop bothering me.” He muttered as he completed the course alignments on the console. He turned sharply, glaring at the Yanish boy. though Leon didn’t step back, Arthur was satisfied to see him lean away a little and avert his eyes. The captain sighed as he straightened his shirt, before putting a hand on Leon’s shoulder.

“Listen, if it’s really that important to you, we can go over it again tomorrow, okay? Neither of us are up for this right now.” Leon opened his mouth, as if to argue, before deciding against it and nodding. Arthur was glad to see that the fire in his eyes had dimmed a little as the younger of the two made his way to his room.

His momentary contentment vanished when he felt a stab of pain go through his head again. _Right_ , he thought as he winced, _there’s still that to tend to_. He hurried towards his bedroom, rubbing at his forearm, already imagining the light, familiar pain that was soon to follow.

* * *

_Szwicza District,_  
Bibesti, Rela,  
17 th Fybwari

Sadik arrived at their door at dusk, bearing a verifiable flood’s worth of loose leaf tea. Lovino held his gaze, expression cold and sharp, for a good minute before deciding to get it over with. Sadik nodded in thanks when the 19-year-old begrudgingly stepped aside, allowing him into his apartment before closing the door behind him. He gestured to the couches crammed into the multi-purpose room, remaining silent. He wasn’t going to be the one to begin this conversation. Sadik glanced around, before facing Lovino with a questioning look on his face. Lovino narrowed his eyes, knowing what his confusion was over.

Feliciano was down in the street markets, trying his hand at proper bartering. Normally, his little brother was too friendly and understanding to be argumentative, even if someone was blatantly in the wrong, but, as Lovino had discovered, he was still quite the sweet-talker. Combine that with a glare that Feli was only able to pull off due to his strong resemblance to Lovino, and you had a recipe for reduced pricing. Lovino had guessed that he would receive a visitor today, having gathered the information from both his own intuition and the twisted, cryptic visuals he had received in his sleep the night before. A part of him wanted to leave the door open a crack, in case Sadik realised how much power he had in this situation, but he forced down his unease, and locked it. Lovino leant against the hard surface, tilting his head slightly to the side. Sadik was avoiding his gaze again. A sort of barely-tempered anger surged inside him, and he folded his arms securely across his stomach, attempting to hide how his hands had clenched into fists.

“I’m sorry.” Lovino’s gaze didn’t falter when he finally heard the words, his glare remaining just as sharp. He raised an eyebrow.

“You are? Funny, then, that it’s taken you this long to actually fucking say it.” Sadik flinched. He could hear the venom in the younger man’s voice clearly, and could easily pick up how his voice was wavering with fury. Sadik would not fight him on that, he had the right to be.

“I didn’t know what to say.” He muttered, “I wanted to apologise, so much, but I knew you would act like this.” Lovino’s glare intensified.

“So just because I am, understandably, reacting badly, making the effort to apologise anyway is pointless?” he asked, tone dripping with derision. Sadik looked up, alarm on his features.

“No! I didn’t mean that. I just…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I just wanted to find the right way to apologise. I wanted to make you understand.”

“I do understand, you’re a fucking pervert, and a creep.” Sadik closed his eyes briefly.

“I am,” he said, sounding resigned, “And I need more help for that, as has now been proven to me.” He looked down, and Lovino shifted, feeling uncomfortable when he saw the shame painted all over the Nymian’s facial features. “I’ve known you two since you were much younger, and I’ve always liked to take care of you. I’ll admit, for you anyway, that it began to change along the line. How I see you, I mean. I’m sorry for that, and I’m even more sorry for what I did last week. I still want to help you if I can. You guys are only young, and I almost feel responsible for you two.”

“You really don’t have to feel like that -” Lovino interrupted him, guilt at his sharp words making the pit of his stomach sink.

“I know I don’t, but I do. If you can forgive me, I’d be grateful, but if you can’t, I understand.”

Lovino sighed, and silence reigned in the room for a long moment.

“Well,” he said, nodding towards the bags Sadik had brought with him “you brought me gifts, so I guess I kind of have to now. Though,” a small smile reappeared on his face, “I still won’t share it with you.” The reciprocating grin that appeared, slanting across Sadik’s face, helped the last of his tension to drain away. He moved to sit next to him, nodding at them.

Sadik smiled again, looking more relieved than Lovino had ever seen him, before opening the bags to show him.

They were expensive teas, that Lovino noted immediately. They had rose and sencha from Yan and Misor, ground spice used to make tea in Rityl, whole pieces of dried fruit used in Jhobras and the Eastern stretch of the Rega Belt, sweet tisanes from Xexei – a cultural staple imported thousands of years ago from Pyndaph, a bitter black powder from Nyma, and, near the bottom of the bag–

“Oh, this one,” Sadik said, pulling it out. It was a small, bronze tin, nondescript but for the label etched into the side. To many, and no doubt Sadik, it would be ineligible. Lovino’s eyes, however, easily slid across the foreign writing. He swallowed hard, and it took a good deal of effort to face Sadik as he continued to speak. “It’s a fairly good brew, apparently. Syhvvanian, also, if the merchant who sold it to me is to be believed.”

“What’s in it?” he asked, feigning ignorance and curiosity as he took the tin from Sadik’s hands and turned it over, the words ‘Clanco Biank Infus’ – ‘White Horn Infusion’, in Common Standard – pretending to read the ingredients. Like he didn’t already know them by heart.

Hazel root, Salesha Pine flowers, Red Basilin, ground Gioqa seeds and Etteji tree sap diluted in water. It had been one of the minor backbones of his childhood. Supposedly, there was once a gorgeous plant on Syhvva called the White Horn Tulip. It’s flowers, infused in water, created a bizarre but wonderful tea. After the already sparse plant had gone extinct, gourmets on Syhvva began combining other, much more common ingredients, until they had created a tea which tasted identical. If Lovino’s memory served him correctly, it had a mild sweet flavour, with a smoky undertone which had perfectly balanced taste. He didn’t think Feliciano had ever had it before.

“It’s all the way from Syhvva, too. One of their old cultural brews” Lovino looked up, plastering a look of surprise over his face.

“I thought imports of their traditional cuisine weren’t permitted.” He stated, ignoring the old, bitter lump of resentment that rose up inside him when the words passed his lips. Sadik hummed, leaning back into the couch.

“Officially, they aren’t, but there’s a lot of dishes to be found on Rela which have roots in Syhvva.” He ran a hand over his stubbled chin as he continued, “The chicken paraja they make down in the Colisz District, the Farioli pastries sold literally everywhere,” he jerked his hand toward the tin Lovino still held, “tea and coffee from there is also famously good, so it sorta gets swept under the rug a bit. If we were further in the Union they’d be stricter. Also, because Syhvva’s in this very system, the import prices are nice and low.” Lovino knew that only too well. Ever since they’d found semi-permanent refuge on Rela, he’d gone out of his way to try and remain connected to his culture. After Feliciano had learned everything, Lovino had taken him out on an exploration of the Syhvvanian dishes, objects and drinks to be found in Bibesti. His younger brother had enjoyed it immensely, and now was always begging to go and find those places again. It really was hard to deny him, especially when Lovino himself loved visiting.

“I really don’t know if I can accept all these,” Lovino said, trying to change the subject, “I love tea, you know that, but…this is so much.”

Sadik only shrugged in response. “I owed it to you. In any case, isn’t it your birthday soon?”

Lovino blinked, surprised that Sadik even knew that. “Uh, yeah, in like a month.” He’d be 20, he reminded himself. It was strange to think about, being two decades old. But then, he’d always been the oldest among his royal generation, by about 11 months, too.

“Well then, consider this your birthday present as well.” Sadik said, grinning, “I still remember my 20th birthday.” Lovino looked at him.

“Really?”

Sadik snorted, “No, I got pissed. The whole goddamn week remains a mystery. But in any case, you should enjoy it.” Lovino rolled his eyes fondly.

“I’m sure Feliciano won’t let me be miserable.” Sadik grinned.

“I’m certain he won’t.”

As if on cue, the door swung open, revealing Feliciano as he happily exclaimed about all the things he had successfully bartered for. He stopped briefly upon seeing Sadik, but correctly assumed that they had patched things up from his brother’s comfortable expression, and continued on his spiel. Lovino rolled his eyes fondly, rising from the couch to look at what he had successfully bought. Sadik entertained Feliciano for a few minutes, before finally taking his leave.

It was almost a relief to have him leave. Lovino stared down at the tin still in his hands, turning it over before letting a small, sad smile grace his face before he headed to the kitchen, determined to put the gift to use.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i like tea how did you know  
> Also, Happy Hanukkah to any of Jewish readers out there! :D


	15. [Error: Files Not Found]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They see all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a weird one, just a fair warning.

 

 

 

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> _Saijani Union Political, Historical, Ecological and Academic Archives TM_

 

* * *

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**_ YOUR PRIVATE MESSENGING HISTORY WITH: Taleese Grytens _ **

_  
16 TH FYBWARI _

[1:03AM]: taleeessseee

**[1:04AM]: what the hell? why are you awake? you realise that it’s 1am right?**

[1:04AM]: sorry for waking you up, but I had a burst of inspiration and had to put the finishing touches on my thesis

**[1:05AM]: eh I couldn’t really sleep anyway. My neighbours keep going past my window.  
[1:05AM]: your thesis going well?**

[1:05AM]: so well  
[1:05AM]: im not even kidding this time tal  
[1:05AM]: im crushing it right now

**[1:06AM]: *I’m, I’m, Tal.  
[1:06AM]: You’re a CS major, Liez.**

[1:06AM]: seriously. It’s 1 am, why are you still being such a grammar freak

[1:09AM]: hey, I was just kidding you know, I don’t mind it

[1:43AM: tal, seriously, what the heck. I really didn’t mean it. Or did you fall back asleep? I didn’t think of that.

[3:56AM]: .....

[4:29AM]: what happened to your house. It looks like a whole military barracks came through here haha

[9:11AM]: and now you’re not in class, great

[9:17AM]: prof glens didn’t even call out your name. are you like sick or something?

[2:09PM]: ……

[4:17PM]: tal im serious

[4:59PM]: you hate me now or something?

 

_ 22ND FYBWARI _

[8:08AM]:  ….is this about the stuff you were researching in the archives?

[8:09AM]: I told you not too.

[8:13AM]: Tal, please

 

**_ <This user has deactivated their account> _ **

**_ [END OF CHAT HISTORY] _ **

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	16. The Days Which Drain Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens. Smelling is bad. There's 3000+ words of fucking dialogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my peeps. Long-ass chapter today, hope you enjoy, though, if you hate dialogue, you will hate the second half of this. That shit is literally just dialogue.
> 
> With that last chapter, I was trying basically to tell a short story. A girl, Taleese, was looking up things which were dubbed as 'harmful'. These things have been censored by the Union. She was later made to disappear, 1984-style. Sorry for the confusion!
> 
> RECAP:  
> Tori, Feliks, Roderich and Gilbert have been kidnapped by the rebels. They are currently on Galee  
> Lukas and Emilia have made it to the resistance, and have been promised by Yao that their presence will be known only by those he trusts.  
> The remaining bounty hunters have teamed up with Captain Kirkland's crew to get their friends back. However, to track them down, they need to retrieve one of Arthur's employees, Eduard, from Jhobras.  
> Lovino and Feliciano are still on Rela, where Lovino has forgiven Sadik for attacking him.
> 
> Okay, this is important. All of the characters in here who have unfamiliar names are actual countries which I have created names/personalities for, unless it is actually stated that they are just an OC. This chapter mentions several who are important. I have no real basis for choosing the countries I do, those are just countries which I had already created OC names for. In this story, the Ancient nations/Empires will be older than the majority of the other characters.  
> Their names, and what country/ancient empire they are, are listed below:
> 
> NAMES:  
> Nelia Domingo: Peru  
> Arshad Teymouri: Ancient Persian Empire  
> Ehsan Karimi: Iran  
> Yaretzi Chapula: Aztec Empire  
> Aelia Gabras: Byzantine Empire  
> Octavia Papadopoulos: Ancient Greece  
> Jamael Laroussi: Algeria  
> Mohammed Hassan: Egypt  
> Atalaya Somero: Panama  
> Raneem Asgar: Ancient Egypt
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> More shitty combat scenes as written by yours truly, mentions of exercise, a lil bit of blood, an absolute fuckton of dialogue
> 
> On another note, this is the longest chapter of the story, clocking in at 7,164 words!  
> Also, just so the timeline makes sense, the current year in this story is 4512CC
> 
> Check out my [Tumblr](https://thehippieanarchist.tumblr.com/)

* * *

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,  
19th Fybwari

Fynkn was well-known for it’s landscape. Frigid and frozen 9 months out of 12, it held a vast scene of twisting mountains, frozen lakes, arctic taigas, lifeless steppes and gigantic glaciers. It was cold, cold, cold, all year round. Even in Summer it snowed, and in the days or weeks where it didn’t, the perennial wind-chill was still too intense for much time out in the sun. The only real difference between Summer and Winter was the length of the days. All that had distinguished the two for Lukas as a child had been that right in the middle of winter, they always had their annual Yulerin celebrations.

During the festival, the city of Oslaholm would become festooned with pine wreaths, glowing lanterns and vibrant oil paint patterns that gracefully swept along the sides of buildings. The streets would become cluttered with market stalls, selling all sorts of things. And it always snowed. Always. Lukas had been born in the cold, grown up in it, become comfortable in it. As a child, the stories of summers so hot that people collapsed were as foreign as those who came bearing them. He remembered the names of the planets they came from; Nyma, Jhobras, Aralos, Qyyyt, Dryx. All his tutoring until that point had only been able to supply him with the simple information that _they were hot_. As a child, he’d vowed to not visit a single one of them, ever, because snow was better than a blazing sun any day.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice now.

There was sweat verifiably _pouring_ down his chest, making the loose cotton shirt he’d been afforded for these training sessions cling tight to his skin. His hair was clumping and gathering in front of his eyes, and he could feel each and every one of the seventeen blisters on his feet which had formed and painfully burst since the morning had begun. As if to make it even worse, they were throbbing inside the stiff leather boots he was currently training in, and judging by the slickness he could feel on their undersides, he was bleeding. His fingers had been clamped in the same folded position that stopped him from using them that they were beginning to seriously cramp; his joints had started to pop and crack at the slightest movements. The black pants he had been wearing were starting to painfully scrape and chafe on his legs. The sun, beating down as fiercely as ever, had already burned his exposed skin, and was making his whole condition worse. His breath was coming rough and ragged, but he didn’t even have a moment to brace his hands on his knees and breathe. A metal staff swung into his vision on his right side and he almost slammed himself into the ground to avoid it.

Forcing himself to his feet despite his body’s objections, Lukas tried to relax his muscles, eyes tracking his trainer’s every movement. The metal staff which he was currently tasked with avoiding at all costs swung in loose, lazy circles before they once again lunged at him. Lukas scrambled out of the way of it’s first assault just in time. He wasn’t quite fast enough, however, to dodge the second; it slammed into his right side, and then into his legs, forcing them to fold underneath him. His bare shins met the red, packed dirt of the training area, burning with heat after the hours the sun had been on it. His hands followed soon after. Lukas couldn’t even be bothered to pull himself up again when the staff was levelled at his face, not even to save the skin on his legs and palms (though he could feel it starting to burn). He had been out here training for almost 6 hours now, and his body was just about giving up. Lukas had always prided himself on his stamina and endurance, but this training was something he’d never even done before. Falling like this, being unable to stand the heat, it made him feel like a failure.

However, the rebel training him didn’t think so.

“Brilliant! You’re one of the fastest-improving students I’ve ever had! You lasted almost twice as long that time!” For all of the unpleasant, battle-hardened soldiers that the Resistance had, Nelia Domingo was not one of them. A 20-something-year-old from Jhobras, she was unfalteringly encouraging. Nelia herself had trained in the Aparaki Mountains on Jhobras, and was nothing less than an expert. She was running Lukas through the very basics of combat all over again; dodging, hand-to-hand combat, hand-eye coordination, punching and kicking, as well as basic self-defence. Lukas had thought that he would fly through it, but Nelia knew how to put a student through hell, again and again until they were as good as she was. She had told him that he was already an amazing fighter, and that her role was mostly to polish his skills and make sure he could defend himself armed or not. It was true, Lukas could admit, that he was fine with a weapon, but when unarmed he lost a great deal of his power to defend himself and attack others. Nelia wanted to make sure that that was no longer the case. Lukas groaned as he finally gathered up the strength to stand.

“I still got hit, though.” He muttered, irritated at himself. Nelia frowned.

“You did,” she said, reaching out and tapping him on the nose; something she did when someone had just annoyed her, “But you still kept it up, dodging with no help from your hands, for more than half an hour. Not to mention, it’s hot as shit out here, and you’re from an Arctic planet. Do you have any idea how many of my Fynknian students have collapsed of heatstroke? Because it’s a lot.” She smiled at him. “Don’t beat yourself up, Lukas, okay? You’re still improving at an absolutely remarkable rate. You’ll be flipping me over your shoulder in no time.” Nelia dropped her staff underneath the small tent set up in the shade and sat on the rough-hewn wooden bench that also sat there, gesturing for him to join her. “Not to mention, it’s more than a little hard to be stripped back to the basics.” She clapped him on the shoulder as he sat next to her. “So, all things considered, no, you aren’t a damn failure. The opposite, really.” He sighed but nodded, and she smiled, having gotten her point across.

Lukas managed to hold in his gasp of pain as he pulled his leather training shoes off. He was right; his feet were absolutely drenched in blood. Slivers of skin, worn off by the hot leather, trailed along their sides. Nelia winced when she saw them. “Oh, ouch. I guess that’s my fault then?” Lukas was about to refute her statement, but trailed off awkwardly and closed his mouth. Nelia raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll help you patch them up.”

Though he argued that he was fine, he felt undeniably better after Nelia had helped him wash, disinfect and bandage his feet. He did refuse her offers to help him walk, though, simply ignoring the sharp pain that travelled through his feet with every step.

“It’s not that bad.” He remarked when he noted Nelia’s gaze flickering between his face and his feet. She held her hands up defensively.

“Okay, okay. I get the point.” She said, lowering her hands to her sides again. “But if they get infected, or too painful, you go see a medic, okay? None of this independent teenager thing.”

Lukas stared at her, almost insulted. “I’m not technically a teenager.”

“You’re 18. That means you’re a teenager.”

“Well I’m 19 in Maii.”

“Still a teenager.” Nelia looked at him, bursting out laughing when she saw his expression. She shook her head at him slightly, smiling fondly. For once, Lukas let himself smile back a little.

Despite the heat and the noise, the hectic nature that even breakfasts could bring and the endless training which left him sore and bruised; Lukas liked the resistance. He was surprised at how equally he was treated. He’d been worried that if anyone found out he was royalty that they would start to bow and scrape – which he hated a fair amount. He’d spent most of his life running across the universe, stealing and begging to get by. He didn’t want any of the formalities and inflections that were meant as a sign of respect to his status. He was a soldier in this war just like everyone else here. Yao, the first of them to know, wasn’t afraid to scold him about keeping his sleeping quarters clean, or not skipping training sessions. He didn’t break into lengthy lectures about his role or future or anything like that. He got frustrated with him like he did everyone else. It was liberating, in a sense. Tino, one of the few other people who knew, had only asked about his royal status once, and that was to bluntly ask him if golden toilets were a thing (they were not). He and Emilia (or Laila as she was now) were treated the same as anyone. True, the vast, vast majority of the resistance didn’t see them as anything other than two more Fynknian refugees turned partisan fighters. But those who actually knew treated him like anyone else.

It had taken a bit of confusion and wondering on Lukas’ part as to why Yao hadn’t told more people about him and Emilia, before Tino had finally dragged him aside and explained. Lukas and Emilia were secret weapons in the Resistance’s arsenal, and the longer that they could keep their presence here secret from the Union, the better. But that wasn’t the only reason. There was currently a large amount of vetting going on in among the rebels. The majority of this vetting was unknown. The rebels were by nature cautious, but they were doing it right now for a far more important reason.

The Resistance had a rat, and judging by the information they had leaked, they had managed to burrow very, very deep.

* * *

 _Somor, Tyysha Region,_  
Galee,  
19th Fybwari

The sharp knocking arrived at 3am.

Matthew had already been awake, having been startled awake by a nightmare he’d had earlier ( _he’d been at the markets again, in that crushing mass of people, screaming and cursing. And he had watched his family vanish again)_. He had been making some cocoa to calm his nerves when the sharp rapping noise echoed from the entryway. Matthew paused, raising his head, silently poking it around the corner to watch the door for a moment. He debated whether or not to open it. This whole cabin was made of unpainted timber, forever damp and musty from the moisture in the air. Anyone determined enough could easily kick that door in and barge inside. He pursed his lips, placing his mug on the bench next to him before quickly crossing the small distance to the doorway where his friends slept. He had only placed his hand on the doorknob when the knocking repeated. The doorknob underneath his fingers was swept away as the door opened, Elizabeta and Bella’s tired, confused faces staring back at him.

“We have visitors.” he murmured, inclining his head towards the door. Their expressions immediately sharpened, eyes focusing as they quietly moved into the hallway beside him, collecting their weapons. He nodded at Bella when she tossed his hunting knife to him. He had always been better at long-range combat, but he supposed he would just have to make do. Drawing in a breath and hoping that their other friends would wake up soon, he approached the door and opened it in a single, fluid motion.

Four Garvich stood in the doorway, staring down at him from their impressive seven feet of height. He raised an eyebrow. “And how may I help you at 3am?” he asked sharply. His Galeevi was conversational at best, so he went with the safe option of speaking in the Common Standard. The one standing at the front bared their teeth in what Matthew assumed was a very uncomfortable smile. The Garvich were far from the most visually unpleasant race, but they were certainly different from humans. They were bipedal, of course, and very tall. They had two arms and two legs, like humans, but had feet that split into three talons, kind of like birds. They usually had skin ranging from light brown to mossy green, mottled with darker patches on their arms and backs. Where humans would have hair, they had sharp spines which they grew out long and tied back. Their ears were almost bat-like and situated at the tops of their heads. Their eyes were almond shaped, and solid in colour (they were normally black) a rather flat nose, distinguishable only by their nostrils, and mouths slightly larger than those of humans, with rows of razor-sharp teeth.

The apparent leader of the gang which had graced their doorstep before dawn had caramel-coloured skin, and relatively short spines (arranged like a bob hairstyle would be on a human). Of the others, one had light green skin, one had lilac with dark grey marks, and the last had deep blue skin and white markings. The leader (still with the uncomfortable smile), tilted their head and responded.

“We’re here to complain of something horrific which seems to have accompanied you humans here.” They turned their gaze towards Elizabeta and Bella, smile widening. “It’s giving off a bad smell.” The Garvich, who Matthew could now see was female from the striking marks on her neck, moved inside as she spoke. “We are here to remove it.” Before Matthew could even speak; either to question what they were talking about or tell them to get out, the green-skinned Garvich moved past him and darted inside, slipping easily out of reach. The other three at the door made no moves to enter after their friend, even when they saw Elizabeta and Bella dart after them.

Finally having been woken up by the noise, Abel, Carlotta and Kari exited the room where they had been sleeping, eyes widening when they spotted the Garvich at their door. Matthew stepped back from the doorframe a little, levelling his knife at the trio standing before him. He opened his mouth to call out for Bella and Liz, when yelling began behind him. The Garvich before him craned their heads to see what was happening in the darkness, and Matthew himself turned to see what was happening. To his shock, the green-skinned Garvich had seized one of their prisoners – the pale one they had nicknamed Ghoul – by the hair and was dragging him along behind them. The man wasn’t even fighting, and when they got a little closer, Matthew saw why. His skin was drained of absolutely all colour, his eyes were wide, unblinking and unseeing as he stumbled blindly along after them: he was paralysed with fear.

 _A bad smell_ …oh god. Matthew cursed, raising his knife at the Garvich again as he saw Bella re-enter the back room where the prisoners were in his peripheral vision.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but he’s our prisoner. You cannot take him.”

The green-skinned Garvich sneered at him. “He has dirty blood, tainted blood. Death is the only proper treatment for an abomination like him.”

“That may be so, but he is our prisoner; our responsibility. You don’t have the right to decide what happens to him.”

The Garvich bared their teeth, reaching for a knife that Matthew could now see was strapped to their side, when the green-skinned alien was promptly knocked off their feet by a dark blur.

“Get your hands off my fucking cousin!” were the words that followed. Matthew blinked. The prisoner they had nicknamed Gentleman was freed of his bonds, and seemed to be having no qualms about attacking an alien much larger and stronger than himself. If he could say one thing about that, it was that the Incandan man was brave _(stupid yes, but his courage prevailed nonetheless)_. Also…cousin. That explained Gentleman’s habit of caring for Ghoul, at least. A small smile wormed its way onto his face as he saw the blond-haired girl nicknamed ‘Eslin’ also emerge from the room. Clearly, Bella had noted their need for backup and decided to give their captives a brief bout of freedom. The girl ran to free Ghoul from the Garvich’s vice like grip while Gentleman continued to grapple with them.

The other Garvich standing in the doorway roared in fury and shoved past Matthew to help their friend. Matthew caught the last one on his dagger, shoving them back outside as he twisted the metal now firmly lodged in their abdomen. They let out a sharp noise of pain, claws raking over Matthew’s arms as he struggled to stop them from joining the fray. Abel and Carlotta, with their pure combined ferocity _(which could only have been made more fearsome if Tino were present with his sniper rifle),_ had slammed the blue-skinned one to the floor and were attempting to slowly drag it outside. The group’s caramel skinned leader had managed to stab Kari with her sharp talons, and was currently trying to knock out Gentleman. Ghoul remained completely frozen in terror, watching the scene with an expression of mounting horror. The caramel-skinned Garvich slammed Gentleman’s head into the wall, effectively stunning him, and leapt to her feet as the blue-skinned Garvich knocked Carlotta harshly into the wall, tore Abel’s gun from his hands and flew at Eslin, wrapping it’s clawed hands around her throat and starting to squeeze, hard.  

The blue-skinned Garvich abruptly paused, going still for a moment as it’s hands loosened and dropped away from the blond girl’s neck. She staggered away, gasping. Matthew’s eyes widened.

> **_ Note to self: _ ** _never underestimate a bounty hunter, even those with severe abdominal injuries and a debilitating fever._

The final of their four prisoners had burst from the back room as well, and the dagger in his hand was buried hilt-deep in the blue-skinned Garvich’s collarbone. With a savage twist, the Pyndaphian jerked it free once more, slamming the Garvich to the floor with his foot. Matthew wasn’t certain how he was even standing. The toll that his injuries had taken on his body was evident. His skin was so pale and colourless it was almost translucent, and his hair was tangled and matted with dirt and blood. His green eyes were deeply bloodshot, and had dark bags hanging beneath them. The bones in his face, hands and neck seemed more prominent than they been when they’d first captured him, and despite his speedy movements, his whole frame was sagging with exhaustion and illness. His face had taken on a grey tinge, and Matthew had no doubt that, had he pulled away the grey shirt hanging off his bony shoulders to check the bandages beneath, he would find them being gradually re-soaked with blood. The man charged forwards regardless.

The element of pure shock which his appearance had been able to bring was enough to turn the tides in their favour. Abel dragged the blue-skinned Garvich outside to join the lilac one with Matthew had gutted earlier. Eslin and Kari threw their combined efforts into knocking the leader unconscious, and Carlotta sat back and enjoyed the show as Phantom _(perhaps an inappropriate nickname, given the lively ferocity on the Pyndaphian’s face now)_ easily kicked the green Garvich’s ass, even catching a knife which the alien had attempted to throw at Matthew before he unceremoniously threw them out the door. With all four of their untimely invaders thoroughly expelled from their hiding place, a surprising silence descended on the shack. Phantom dropped his knife, swaying. Thankfully, the girl Eslin had better instincts than Matthew, and managed to catch the man around the middle before he could completely collapse on the floor. Carlotta made her way outside to make sure that they didn’t return, yelling at him to tend to the wounded and start packing their things. There was no way they’d be able to stay here after that. Sweeping his eyes around the cabin and taking note of the damage that the scuffle had done, he winced. Hopefully the owners wouldn’t mind too much.

His gaze moved to their four prisoners, surprisingly not making any moves to escape. Eslin was cradling Phantom’s head in her lap, looking distressed, Gentleman was massaging the back of his head (which Matthew knew he’d have to check for a potential concussion later), and Ghoul, the root of all this madness, was still slumped against the wall, eyes wide, looking completely shell-shocked. Matthew, trying not to startle him, moved to his side and placed his hand on his back. He jumped a little, twisting to look at him. The albino’s expression shifted the second he laid eyes on Matthew, mouth slackening a little.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Ghoul was silent for a moment, staring at him with something akin to shock, before he managed to shake himself a little.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be fine.” He avoided making eye contact with Matthew, mumbling the words. Matthew didn’t believe him for a second, but eased up a little when he felt the albino lean into him a little, sighing shakily. He allowed himself to comfort the man with his warmth for a few moments, squeezing his shoulder gently before he removed his arm and stood. They needed to get out of here. He helped the albino to his feet, before moving to check on Kari. Her wounds weren’t overly deep, and not serious enough to panic over. The same went for the deep scratches on Matthew’s arm. He would just have to make sure he disinfected them. He could feel the albino’s stare lingering on him, and let his mind wander a little. It was the first time they’d seen him unmasked, he realised. It still didn’t explain why he was so fascinating to them, but he supposed that that was a question for another day.

Carlotta and Abel came back after a while, and though they were alone and the Garvich nowhere to be seen, they were quick to tell the others to start repacking their things. Clearly, Galee and its inhabitants were no longer going to be hospitable towards them.

They were ready to leave merely 20 minutes later, having hurriedly thrown everything back into their ship and stolen anything of use from the cabin. Matthew observed their four prisoners for a moment. Phantom was being propped up by Ghoul, who still looked pale and shaken, but vastly better than he had earlier. No doubt the shock and nerves were starting to wear off.

They were dangerous; that much was evident by how their friend had managed to fight off a couple of fully-grown, fury-driven Garvich. Matthew knew that, as did his comrades.

The handcuffs reappeared, and were soon locked around their wrists again, but notably absent were the cuffs that had previously confined their legs. Matthew made no moves to contain them in a smaller room like they had done on their journey here. Neither did any of the others.

They had earned that, at least.  

* * *

 _Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,  
20th Fybwari

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…

The targets bent, metal crumpling and folding easily under the sharp impact of Tino’s rifle. Really, these targets were for sniper practice, but he hadn’t needed to practice on his Kohde-18 sniper rifle in years. The Gewsche rifle in his hands was different yet familiar. The Incandan-made rifle was one of the first models that his younger self had ever laid hands on. He still remembered how invigorating it had been to line up the gun’s barrel with a target (at that time a row of wobbly glass bottles lined up on his family’s rotting wooden fence) and discover that he had a gift. His first few rounds against the bottles had been off, missing by several inches, but the minute he hit one, he didn’t miss again.

Marksmanship was something that had not run in his family. His grandfather had good aim, it was true, but he was no born natural. When Tino’s mother took him to a shooting club in his small home town, they’d pronounced him a prodigy mere minutes after seeing him take down a row of targets and inform them he’d been shooting for only two days. Living in a rural area – on what he supposed could be considered a farm – most of the people around knew how to operate a gun. For all the snakes, brown-backed foxes and other persistent pests, it was necessary knowledge. Tino’s village in particular had been plagued by a pack of wild dogs from the northern tundra. The animals migrated south during the coldest three months of the year, and had found the many animals around Tino’s house easy prey. His mother had previously always sat out on the porch when dusk started to fall, cocking her shotgun and shooting at them to scare them away.

But once Tino’s skills had been discovered, he had stood as her replacement, landing flawless head-shots every time. It had always made him feel bad, however. The dogs were only trying to survive, as their basic biology and will dictated. He’d gotten a bad habit of tossing the lurking animals any food scraps they had instead of turning them into compost like his mother told him to. His cousin Onni had thought it was hilarious.

Tino lowered the rifle in his hands when he heard approaching footsteps behind him.

“Don’t stop because of me.” Yao’s voice echoed out. Tino relaxed, turning and leaning the rifle against the barrier he’d been pressed against to make his shots.

“But that would be rude, wouldn’t it?” he joked lightly. He folded his arms loosely, facing the Yanish man. Yao walked up to the barrier, scooping the gun into his hands and handing it back to Tino, before seizing his shoulders and turning him back towards the shooting range.

“Don’t stop because of me.” He repeated, picking up his own gun and taking aim. Tino stared at him for a moment before the words, and the implications they held when combined with his actions, obeyed. Yao fired off an entire round of ammunition into the targets, hitting the centres almost flawlessly. Tino raised his eyebrows.

“I didn’t know you could shoot so well.” He joked, “Why do you never join us on our scouting missions?” Yao gave the barest hint of a smile.

“I would, were I not so busy,” he said as he lowered his gun to reload it, “shooting used to be a hobby of mine. I do miss it when I see you youngsters out here.”

Tino looked him up and down. “You aren’t that old, Yao, surely.”

Yao didn’t respond, just smiled neutrally and reloaded his gun, rubbing at his gloved left hand like it pained him.

“I’m yet to figure out why my age is such an important mystery for you guys to solve.” He said. “What does it matter if I should be getting wrinkles soon or not?”

Tino snorted. “I think some of the other vice-generals want to know if they can have a shot at power soon.” Yao’s expression grew a little fixed when Tino said that, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He wouldn’t have even noticed had he not been standing so close to the general. Yao was masterful when it came to concealing his emotions; it was difficult to tell what he was thinking or feeling unless he outright stated it or was exploding with anger. Tino had only seen the latter happen once. It was more terrifying than every battle he had participated in, and more nerve-wrattling than every life he’d claimed in the name of the resistance. For someone who managed to otherwise have such a caring and paternal air about him, it was nothing less than jarring.

Unfortunately, the vice-generals were not present when it had happened, and so had not learned to respect Yao in the same way which Tino had.

When Yao or Tino said ‘Vice-Generals’ they did not refer to all of them; there were about 20 or so. No, they were referring to a group in particular. Vice-Generals Ehsan Karimi, Octavia Papadopoulos, Jamael Laroussi and Aelia Gabras were the verifiable bane of Yao’s existence, and everyone knew it. They contradicted and questioned him at every turn, despite the fact that Yao had never yet lead the resistance into disaster. If he was too reckless, they lectured him on being cautious, and if he was too cautious, they told him to have faith in their soldiers and stop being so stuck-up. He simply couldn’t win with the four of them present. As Yao was a cautious creature by nature, reckless fighters wanting to go on what he deemed suicide missions was normally shot down within seconds. At this point, Karimi, Papadopoulos, Laroussi or Gabras would step in and say that they needed that mission, or something similar. Yao would shoot them down again, and a terse exchange of words would ensue until he gave in or marched off in frustration.

Other high-ranked officials in the resistance, like General Mohammed Hassan, Lieutenant General Yaretzi Chapula, and Vice Admirals Atalaya Somero and Raneem Asgar, were trustworthy beyond measure, and had absolute faith in Yao and his leadership. They supported him without condition. And they were his greatest ally against the four who inexplicably seemed to hate him.

Yao sighed. “They seem to almost be waiting for me to drop dead so one of them has a chance.”

Tino couldn’t help but ask. “Why do they hate you? I mean, you’re the best leader the resistance has had in decades, according to some.”

Yao smiled, a little sadly. “Gabras and Laroussi? I have no idea. I think Gabras is just following Papadopoulos’ lead, honestly. She never was very independent.” He tossed some loose strands of black hair behind his ears before continuing. “Papadopoulos thinks that I stole the position that should have been hers, even though the resistance’s leader is selected through democratic voting, and no-one voted for her.” Tino snorted at that point, and Yao shot him a look which said ‘be respectful’, even though he was smirking as well. “As for Karimi,” he sighed, “I actually know and understand why he hates me.”

Tino straightened up, not even trying to hide his curiosity now. “Why?”. Yao looked pensive, thoughtful for a moment before he answered.

“Well, you’re too new to the resistance to remember.” He started, “but the leader before me was a man named Arshad Teymouri. Sound familiar?”

Tino nodded, “Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about him, but I still feel like I don’t know that much.”

“Well,” Yao continued, “He led this movement for about 11 years, starting in 4495CC. He joined because of the Union’s role in the enslavement of free peoples. His sister, I believe, was enslaved, and he barely escaped with his life. He joined for that reason. His leadership only ended with his death in 4506CC. Now, Tino, as I trust your skills with chronology and mathematics, I hope you know what that means.” Tino nodded slowly.

“He led the rebels during the expansion.” He said, receiving a nod from Yao.

“Yes. He led this movement during the annexation of the Free Courts by the Union in 4501CC, during which our numbers saw their largest ever increase, buoyed mostly by refugees from Daerna, Syhhva and Fynkn. He had the role of trying to coordinate and fund food, medical supplies, clothes and living quarters for thousands upon thousands of new rebels. And he managed to do it, too. Quite amazing, I think.” Tino nodded in agreement. Yao rubbed the back of his neck.

“Now, I met him in 4502, just a year after the expansion had happened. I was interested in helping this cause, and not for the reasons that most people do.” He gestured to himself. “I’m Yanish, it’s quite obvious. Honestly, that’s also why some rebels here still don’t trust me. Yan is the crown jewel of the whole Union, so I can hardly blame them for their caution.”

“Now, the majority of Yanish people quite viciously support the Union and its actions. I had never really been a loyalist, though. I neither supported nor opposed their actions. However, that started to change when the tensions between the Union and the Free Courts started to skyrocket.” He absently began to polish the rifle still in his hands, looking much so like he was lost in memories. “The Union sent an assassin to kill the reigning queen of Syhvva, as well as her husband, about five years before the expansion even happened. Of course, at the time, they denied any involvement, but everyone knew they were responsible. That was about when I started to distinctly lean away from the Union.” He paused.

“They murdered an innocent couple, who were the parents to two very young children, out of spite because of some trade blockade they refused to approve.” He shook his head, casting his gaze downwards. “It was just evil. The newspapers kept displaying one picture. Not of the place where they were killed, or of the old king being reinstated. No, they kept publishing a picture of little Prince Lovino, only four at the time, clinging to his grandfather’s leg with tears running down his face.”

Tino’s eyes widened. “I think…I might remember that. My mother always keeps newspapers from major events, and that was one of them.” Yao nodded.

“It was shocking, and I started to feel disdain for the very thing I’d grown up in. A year after the expansion, I met Arshad, and deduced that he was a rebel fighter. He fully expected me to turn him in, but instead I asked how I could help. At the time, I didn’t know how important he was, but I was done with sitting around and watching the Union destroy lives. I started to do surveillance for them, around major government buildings. I befriended a politician and managed to get him to spill information about the Free Courts and their knowledge of the resistance. Arshad was my only contact with the resistance for a good nine months or so. When he trusted me enough, he took me to their base, when then had been on Apollomina. It was only then that I realised how important he was.” He chuckled. “Gave me the shock of my life.” His expression turned pensive again.

“No-one trusted me. I remember that much. They thought that there was no way a person from Yan, raised in the Union, would ever want to be a rebel fighter. The only people willing to trust me seemed to be children, actually. I wasn’t deemed ‘suitable’ for proper meetings, so I spent time with non-combatant refugees, helping them out where I could. They still suspected me of leaking information. Then, about 3 months after I was first shown their base…” he trailed off, rubbing his hands together as if he were cold.

“Well, the Union caught on to my little espionage act. They captured me and tried to get the information out of me. I was out of commission for a whole year, and the whole of the resistance thought I was a traitor, the children and refugees included. Arshad got nothing less than a verbal thrashing for trusting me in the first place. While I was being held captive, the real spies leaked the location of the base, forcing them to move here.” he gestured around.

“Eventually, I was freed, and brought here. Upon realising that I wasn’t a traitor, I was properly accepted into the resistance. Arshad continued to work with me, even though I was barely important enough to warrant attention at that time. For two years after I was freed, everything actually went well. Arshad was a close friend of mine, and I finally managed to prove myself to even the greatest sceptics.” A horrible, shuddering sigh escaped Yao.

“Then came the mission on Xexei.” He paused, casting a look upwards, as if trying to seek out the planet (which wasn’t even in this system) before continuing.

“He had received intel that a brothel owner on Xexei could potentially help lead him back to his sister. He managed to recruit one of the young slaves there to spy for him.” Yao shook his head slightly, expression sadder. “His emotions, his personal investment in the mission, made everything go wrong. He confronted the owner before he was even certain he had the information, and tried to threaten him into giving it over. It dissolved into a gunfight. And that brothel owner lost a large number of slaves, who ran when the gunfire started and presumably freed themselves. But Arshad lost his life, which was arguably worth far more.”

Yao closed his eyes briefly, having completed his tale. Tino nodded, struggling to absorb the sheer amount of information he was given.

“And then you were elected as leader?” Yao nodded.

“And then I was elected as our leader,” he murmured, “and I have faced opposition ever since.”

Tino frowned as he recalled what had started this lengthy conversation in the first place.

“So how has that made Ehsan Karimi hate you?”

“Ahh,” Yao said, straightening up and opening his eyes, “Ehsan is his brother. He seemed like the natural fit after Arshad, but unlike most leaders, he didn’t state who he wanted to succeed him as leader. He said only that he trusted we would choose appropriately.” Tino nodded, before smiling.

“I think they did.” Yao smiled at him.

“Thank you.” The Yanishman turned back, so he was once again facing the target range, but did not pick up his weapon. “Tino.”

Tino faced him, expression open and waiting.

“We have a rat, you know that.” He watched the sunset for a moment. “and whoever they are, they are passing highly confidential information. This isn’t someone stealing files, it’s someone sitting in on meetings and hearing about battle strategies.”

Tino swallowed, “Are you sure you should be telling me this?” Yao turned his head, making eye contact with him.

“I know that it isn’t you.” He faced the horizon again. “If the Union finds out we have Lukas and Emilia, they will tear apart the galaxy looking for us. If this spy finds out we have them, we may as well hand over all of our technology to them. That is why it is essential, absolutely essential, that no-one finds out who they really are.”

Tino blinked. “But, if you’re restricting this information to your top generals, why did you tell me as well.” Yao smiled.

“Were you not listening? This spy may very well be one of our top generals. I am telling the people who I trust implicitly, regardless of station.” Tino’s mouth fell open, and he felt a blush spread over his cheeks at what was possibly one of the most flattering things he had ever been told. Yao trusted him? Implicitly? Above some of his top generals? Damn.

“Oh.” Was all he managed to say in response. Yao laughed.

“I am aware of their presence. The others that know are LG Yaretzi Chapula, Silje Krissen, as she knew the prince and princess on Fynkn and would recognise them anyway, General Hassan, Vice Admiral Somero, and you.” Hearing his own inclusion along with such legendary figures made Tino’s mouth fall open again. Yao continued, smile remaining. “If they return safely, I will let Matthew, Elizabeta and Kari know as well.” He shifted his weight from where he had been leaning on his arms. “It isn’t that you guys are the only ones I trust, but until this spy is exposed, we have to keep as many secrets as we can. The fewer people know, the safer we’ll be.”

Tino nodded in understanding. Really, all of Yao’s choices made sense (except for the decision to trust him, he was still reeling over that). Elizabeta and Matthew had been with the resistance for years, and Tino knew that both Kari and Silje Krissen would rather die a slow and painful death than betray the Bondevik family. Tino himself would never betray them either, not just because this resistance was his life, but also because he’d gotten the chance to get to know both the wayward royals since they’d arrived here. He liked them both; they were very genuine people, and not afraid to say what they were thinking, which he appreciated in a friend.

“Do you have any way of figuring out who the spies are?” he inquired.

“Well, the fact that we do have Lukas and Emilia is already useful. Remember, one of the Fynknian gifts is manipulation of the mind. We can use them to secretly scan through the thoughts of anyone who hasn’t been deemed trustworthy, as well as conducting other vetting to absolutely determine their loyalty.” Tino nodded.

“Why haven’t I been vetted, or tested at all?” he asked. Yao smiled.

“Because I asked Lukas to do just that the night he arrived. He said that there was not so much as a single thought in your mind which had ever considered betrayal. I’ve known you since you joined this rebellion, Tino, and you’re one of our most valuable fighters. By far our most valuable sniper, in any case.”

“But still,” Tino persisted, “I don’t see why you’re trusting me with this. Everyone else who knows is a high-ranked official. Even Matthew and Kari are both Captains. I’m only a Sergeant.” He spotted the widening grin on Yao’s face, and blinked. “Oh god, you really shouldn’t–”

“Well I already did,” Yao said, fishing a small metal pin from his pocket and tossing it to him. “You’re First Lieutenant Tino Väinämoïnen now, so stop complaining.” Tino stared at the pin in silence for a moment, wondering what on earth he had done to deserve a 3-rank promotion, but swallowed his doubts and decided to go for gratitude instead.

“Thank you.” He sighed.

“Don’t start with that. It’s been a long time coming.” Yao dusted gunpowder from his uniform and adjusted the rims of his gloves, which came a third of the way up his forearm. He nodded to him, signalling that their long conversation was finally over, before walking back towards the brightly lit collection of tents some distance away, leaving Tino to his racing thoughts.

He stared again at the pin which denoted his new rank, and finally allowed a delighted smile to cross his face. He tucked it into his pocket, ensuring he wouldn’t lose it, before picking up his gun once more, and taking aim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any spelling mistakes! I am my own beta, and sometimes the spelling and grammar checks on my laptop don't pick up everything.  
> Also, check out my [Tumblr](https://thehippieanarchist.tumblr.com/)  
> Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and Happy Kwanzaa to everyone! Hope that everyone enjoys their holidays!


	17. The Chaotic Hours Which Fill Our Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has had a good Christmas/Hanukkah, and to anyone whom it applies continues to have a nice Kwanzaa. I thought I should get at least one more chapter out before the new year begins, so here you go! Thanks so much to everyone who kudosed (totally a word btw) and commented last time! I love you all! Also, glad that you guys stayed tuned in during that massive dialogue dump last chapter. That stuff is important and will continue to be, for more characters than one.
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- There is a spy in the resistance, which is beginning to worry Yao. Lukas has started training, and Tino got promoted  
> \- Matthew, Bella, Kari, Carlotta and Abel, along with their prisoners, got ambushed on Galee by some Garvich intent on murdering poor old Gil. With the bounty hunters' help, they fended them off and fled. Feliks, Gilbert, Roderich and Tori have also now seen Matthew unmasked.  
> \- The remaining bounty hunters and pirates have sworn to collect some members of Arthur's crew so they can track down their friends and rescue them.  
> \- Lovino and Feliciano are still on Rela. Lovino has forgiven Sadik, after he attacked him, and was saved by a mysterious blonde who lives across the hall. 
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> Bit o' swearing, some medical bullshit (don't question it pls), mentions of soap operas, 
> 
> Also:  
> Yael = Israel
> 
> Well, I think that's everything, so enjoy!!! If you have any questions, find me on Tumblr [here](https://thehippieanarchist.tumblr.com/)

_Open Space,_  
Outside Cyypraa,  
22nd Fybwari

Elizabeta was getting sick of space.

Believe her, she enjoyed flying, and sometimes, there was nothing more thrilling than spiralling through the air in a fighter. No, she would always enjoy flying. What was getting on her nerves was space itself. Looking out the windows and seeing endless darkness, an expanse of ink coloured sky interrupted only by the array of stars which spread across everything. Asteroids bumping gently into their ship when they went through belts, and the emptiness that surrounded their ship, almost always present except for when a planet appeared from the darkness, continuing to expand in size as they grew closer. She had spent months on an outpost before her capture, which was in space, then weeks on the pirate’s ship, in space, and now even more time on this ship, returning to Nyma. Which, of course, was in fucking space. She swore, if she had to tolerate this much longer, she’d expel herself out the airlock.

The only thing which retracted from the boredom of space travel like this was their prisoners, who had become vastly more confident since the encounter with the Garvich two days ago. Granted, they weren’t being as securely restrained as they had been before, so the root of their newfound joviality was fairly evident. She had more respect for them after their scuffle with the Garvich; particularly for Gentleman, whose fierce defence of his cousin had resulted in quite a severe concussion, a split lip and a few broken fingers. She had also learned that his real name was Roderich, which suited him almost to a fault. Speaking to their interesting guests helped spruce up the journey a lot more.

But, she supposed, she wouldn’t need the distraction for that much longer. They should be back on Nyma in a few days, where she could finally walk on actual, solid _earth_. She had missed it far more than she should have.

The question of what to do with their prisoners still hung in the air among them. Matthew was the unspoken leader of this mission, so the others deferred to him, but he seemed to defer to Elizabeta, who had absolutely no idea what to do with them. She hadn’t had much of a role in capturing them, really. She sincerely wished that Matthew wouldn’t do that. He was a Captain in the rebel fighting force for a reason. True, she was above him in rank, as a Lieutenant Colonel, but this was his mission, and she had no desire to intervene in any of his decisions. She wished that he would see that he was just as capable a decision-maker as he was a warrior. His promotions hadn’t been from skill on the battlefield alone. She sighed. Despite her own lack of ideas, they really did need to decide what to do with their prisoners soon, and if they were even going to bring them all the way to Nyma with them. If they decided not to – where would they go? What would they do with them? They hadn’t committed any crime, other than having been unfortunate companions of Arthur Kirkland. They couldn’t just kill them.

But if they did bring them all the way to Nyma, what would they even do then? Try and ransom them off to their friends? That could end up being vastly more convoluted than it needed to be. She groaned. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Matthew was adjusting the wiring near the control panel when Elizabeta approached. He sat up a little, surprised that she had come to seek him out. He knew that his habit of deferring to her was starting to annoy her, but he couldn’t help it. Back on Nyma, the vast majority of decisions and planning were run by her before anything was made concrete. And, to be honest, he was only asking her what to do with their prisoners because he didn’t know what to do with them. He sighed, preparing for a lecture.

“I’ll stop asking you about the prisoners, I promise–”

“That’s not what I’m here for.” She interrupted. Elizabeta glanced around the space before looking up at him again. “Mind if I sit?”

Matthew gestured to the free space, “Go for it.” She sat, about a metre away from him, drawing her knees up to her chest and folding her arms over them. She looked over the jumble of wires he was mending.

“Having any luck?” she asked mildly, gesturing to the panel. Matthew raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, it’s coming along,” he said, wiping his hands on the ragged jeans he’d pulled on, “but that isn’t why you came to talk to me, I know it isn’t.”

Elizabeta was silent for a moment, before she sighed, letting her head fall onto her arms.

“It’s about when I was held captive by the pirates.”

Matthew frowned. “You didn’t really tell us anything about that, actually. Did something bad happen?”

Elizabeta’s brow furrowed, and she rubbed her temples. “No, well, I mean, yes, bad things happened, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Matthew felt alarm flood his system. “Bad things happened to you?” he narrowed his eyes. “What happened? What did they do to you?” he honestly feared the answer. She just shook her head.

“Calm down, it wasn’t anything like _that_. I just got deprived of water for a bit. And I couldn’t shower. They were a little inhumane, sure, but not overly cruel.” Matthew relaxed by a fraction.

“So, what is it then?” he inquired. Elizabeta sighed.

“Well, for the first few days of my imprisonment, it was just me and the pirates. But they stopped at the Garsinon Anchorage.” She looked up, eyes shining, “And I know now that we were stranded there thanks to you, so my kudos for that. But,” her expression grew hesitant. “Well, while we were there, obviously, they met up with their bounty hunter friends. Though,” she paused for a moment, “I don’t know if you could really call them ‘friends’. I mean, one of them ripped Kirkland’s finger off.” Matthew felt his eyebrows skyrocket at that statement. Interesting, but not surprising, considering the sorts of things which Kirkland had reportedly done.

“While they were breaking up the fight between Kirkland and this other blonde guy, I saw one of the other bounty hunters.” Elizabeta swallowed. “He had blondish hair, blue eyes, fair skin. And,” She trailed off for a moment, before seemingly bracing herself, closing her eyes. “Matt, he looked so similar to you it was fucking scary.”

Matthew could have sworn he felt his heart stop for a moment. Someone who looked scarily similar to him? He only knew of one person who had ever fit that description. But, he hadn’t seen him in nearly 12 years. There was no way…

Then his mind was filled with images, of Ghoul staring at him in shock when he’d first seen him unmasked, and how Phantom had followed suit. How Elizabeta had studied his face when she’d first returned to them, almost like she was trying to confirm something…

He abruptly felt very sick, and stood suddenly. Elizabeta started, looking alarmed.

“Wait, Matt, don’t go.” She said, scrambling to her feet and trying to grab at his arm. He dodged her and tossed the screwdriver still in his hand down to the floor.

“I,” he started, “I need to go.” Elizabeta’s expression crumpled with regret and worry.

“No, Matt, please.”

“I’ll talk to you later.” He managed to force out in response, almost running down the hallway. He dismissed her continued calls for him to stop and calm down. His thoughts were racing, and his nausea was only increasing. His brother, his younger brother. People had always mistaken them for twins instead of normal brothers because of how similar they looked. Despite being a year older, Matthew had always been slightly shorter, which had only added to the misconception. He stopped abruptly, carding his hands through his hair as the reality sunk in. He groaned, leaning against the wall.

His brother…his brother was alive.

And he was a bounty hunter.

* * *

_Szwicza District,_  
Bibesti, Rela,  
25th Fybwari

The rain was unrelenting on the windows, a constant drone of sound as it continued to thrash against the side of their apartment. Their balcony was hardly even visible through the heavy rain, fog and wind that raged outside. All exterior doors in their apartment had been securely locked, and old, oiled rags had been stuffed in the cracks underneath to stop water from flooding in. Even all of this couldn’t keep out the sharp chill that accompanied the weather.

They’d known this storm was coming for weeks and weeks. It had formed way over in the city of Draszuk, and gradually made its way to Bibesti. The status of the storm had been plastered on every news channel and site for weeks, though now that it had actually arrived, everyone had hunkered down in their own homes. Some channels on TV, as Lovino understood it, had just queued old, shitty movies and soap operas to play for several days. He’d attempted to distract himself with them for a while, but the dialogue alone had made him physically nauseous, so he’d firmly decided that boredom was a safer path to take.

But the real problem was the cold. Their apartment’s heating system had broken several months. But since the weather on Rela never got severely cold, it hadn’t been too much of a bother. But all rules of temperature got thrown out the window when storms like this one came around. It was below freezing, and the two Vargas brothers were trying to stay warm by bundling themselves in every blanket and jacket they owned (which wasn’t that many), and gulping down absurd amounts of the tea which Sadik had gifted to them. It wasn’t working very well, however, and they continued to shudder almost uncontrollably.

Really, Lovino reasoned, all they needed was some sort of distraction. The only place they could really get warm would be to have a hot shower or bath, but that would be boring as hell, and Feliciano had a notoriously short attention span. The only thing which could actually hold his attention for a long time was anything about Syhvva.

The idea struck him, and he felt excitement race inside him. Perfect. It would keep Feliciano’s attention, and they could stay warm by (technically) having a hot bath.

“Feli, I have an idea.” He said, standing and shucking off the blankets he had draped across his shoulders. Feliciano looked up curiously, watching as his brother began fumbling through cupboards, before reaching in and pulling out two bottles. One was full of a thick, dark liquid, and the other, much smaller, which appeared to have some sort of white paste. Grinning happily, Lovino held up the bottles.

“You wanna see what your real hair looks like?”

* * *

“No, no, no, don’t use that much. Jeez, this stuff is expensive, you know.”

“Sorry fratello.” Feliciano mumbled in return, continuing to massage the white paste through his short hair. Lovino couldn’t help but grin. His little brother looked a little absurd, with the paste all through his hair, like someone had rubbed shaving cream through it.

“You need to rub it harder than that,” he said, reaching over and thoroughly scrubbing his brother’s head. Feliciano shrieked, trying to dodge Lovino’s scrabbling hands as he started to giggle madly. He eventually gave in, letting Lovino do the work to rid his hair of the thick black dye which had clung to it for years now.

That was the best thing about _halkar_. It didn’t wash off unless the white paste, known as _surem_ , was applied viciously to the person’s head. The only reason Lovino had used such a strong substance was that Feliciano had been unaware of their heritage, or that they were even Syhvvanian. Now that he knew everything, they could use a much weaker dye to disguise themselves. But they had to remove the _halkar_ first. Lovino gave his brother’s head a once-over before he deemed it finished, and started to scrub at his own scalp. He watched as Feliciano leaned forward, and dunked his head into their bathtub, which they had filled with hot, soapy water. Feliciano began washing the paste from his hair, and as he did, Lovino watched as black spiralled away from his head in a flood, darkening the rest of the water in the bathtub. His gaze turned back to his brother’s head, now free of the substance. There would be strands which hadn’t received enough _surem_ , yes, but they weren’t even visible through the rich, garnet shade which now decorated his hair. Lovino knew his own was a darker shade, but it was in a sense liberating to see.

Feliciano was blinking water out of his eyes, looking at Lovino. “Did it work?” Lovino wordlessly gestured to the age-spotted, cracked mirror which hung above their basin. He turned his attention back to his own task, smiling when he heard the gasp of shock and delight from his brother. “It’s so pretty!” Feliciano exclaimed, a blinding smile stretching across his face. Lovino nodded, before dunking his own head into the bath and rinsing it. The entire bath was black now, and he stood, observing his own reflection and nodding in satisfaction. Feliciano immediately flew to his side, grabbing at his hair to get a better look. Where Feli’s hair was a deep, garnet red shade, Lovino’s was closer to burgundy – noticeably darker, but undeniably Syhvvanian nonetheless. He finally looked… _normal_. At least, what normal was for him. The red, combined with the olive tone of his skin and his amber eyes, looked natural. He had managed to adjust to seeing himself with black hair, yes, but it would never feel as comfortable as it did now. It was a shame that they couldn’t stay looking like this.

He sent his excited brother, examining his hair once more, an apologetic look.

“Feli…we can’t keep our hair like this, you know that.” Feliciano turned, and almost visibly deflated.

“Yeah, I know,” he said sadly, “I wish we could though.” Lovino nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” He said heavily, “But right now, we need to redye it. This one is a lot weaker than _halkar_ , so it should wash out gradually. Basically, that means that we’ll have to do it more often.” Feliciano nodded in understanding, still looking despondent, but fetched the other bottle from the sink without complaint.

Lovino smiled sadly, understanding his brother’s hesitancy, but accepted the bottle, and got to work.

* * *

If someone were to ask why Feliciano had invited the mysterious blonde man from across the hall in for tea, he wouldn’t have been able to answer them. He knew little about him, except that he had saved Lovino when Sadik had been drunk and handsy, he seemed to enjoy wearing army camouflage pants, and had a fondness for military-grade weaponry. He was fairly certain that the man, in return, knew little about him save for the fact that he was ‘Jhobrasian’, a teenager, and normally very happy.

So, from one person who barely knew the other, it was a shock when he accepted. Lovino himself even raised an eyebrow when the blonde entered, but didn’t comment on it. Feliciano happily invited him to sit, and Lovino wordlessly began looking through their (now vast) tea selection. Feliciano drummed his fingers across his leg, just now realising how awkward this was going to be.

“It’s kind of funny, isn’t it?” Feliciano gave a start when the man spoke.

“Oh, uh, what is?” he responded, feeling a little caught off guard.

“Well, I know I’ve lived across the hall from you for about 5 or so years by now, but I’ve never really spoken to you two.” Feliciano blinked, but let a smile slowly stretch across his face, and he laughed softly.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” He said, smiling at the man. “In that case, maybe now’s a good time to start.” He held out his hand. “I’m Feliciano.” The man accepted his hand and gave it a brief, firm shake.

“I’m Vash, though I do beg you don’t call me that when I’m in unpleasant company.” Feliciano could almost hear his brother raising his eyebrow. Not a moment later, he emerged from the kitchen, with a pot of the Misori sencha they had gotten from Sadik.

“I’m Lovino,” he said simply, “and I suppose I could say the same of my brother and I.”

Vash looked over him, gaze lingering on his dark hair and amber eyes before he dropped his eyes to the cup being handed to him by Lovino.

“Thank you.” He murmured, taking a sip and nodding in approval before placing it on their small table. He angled his body back a little, and surveyed them both. “So, as we have shared names and tea, I suppose that is an invitation for me to know more.” He ran a hand back through his blond hair. “Tell me about yourselves.” Lovino and Feliciano exchanged a brief look, before Lovino shrugged, and sat down on the couch next to their guest.

“Well, the two of us are from Jhobras, originally, though we moved here about 6 years ago. What about you?” he inquired. Vash shrugged.

“Well,” he began, “I’m originally from Pyndaph myself, though I lived most of my childhood elsewhere. I’ve lived in Bibesti…4 years? Maybe five by now.” He tilted his head back, looking thoughtful. “There’s really not much to it.” Lovino nodded, observing Vash carefully.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Vash’s mouth curved into a slight smile at that.

“I think I’ll pass on that question, thanks.” He responded. When Lovino looked like he was about to argue, Vash interrupted him. “Unless you’d like to tell me what you two do for a living?”. There was a sly note to his voice, like he knew that he had caught them out. Lovino was silent for a moment, before he smirked.

“Well, it’s not all legal, I’ll admit that much. Mostly pickpocketing and street-fighting.” Vash looked at him with interest.

“And here I was thinking that street-fighting was banned.”

“That depends on who knows about it.” Vash’s slight smirk turned into a brief, but genuine smile. He tossed his long blonde hair back again.

“I work as a military contractor, but not for any company.” Lovino laughed a little at that.

“Sounds to me like that’s a pretty professional way of saying that you’re a criminal.” Vash shrugged again.

“I’m an information broker and arms dealer.” He gave Lovino a sidelong look. “That sort of thing. I trust that you won’t spread that information around, though.” Lovino smirked.

“Like I could be bothered.” He scoffed. Some of the undefined tension in the room dissipated, and Lovino leaned back into the couch, looking more relaxed. Feliciano raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He would leave the mind games to his brother. Their chatter continued, and though it varied from the weather to politics to showbusiness, Feliciano noted how Lovino gently kept the conversation from delving too deeply into their own affairs. Just one of many skills he could only hope to eventually master with his brother’s tutelage. He sat back and let the words roll over him. Strange a meeting as it may be, it certainly beat watching soap operas.

* * *

_Block 41, Room 9,_  
Krios District, Reycass,  
27th Fybwari

“Yup, that appears to be it. Kyrs System, Galee, and a few days of travel nearby Cyypraa. After that, they fell out of range. I’ve told you, that’s it. There’s no mistakes.” Eduard sat back a little, observing the map he’d generated. He, Yael and Natalya had been retrieved from Jhobras several days ago by Captain Kirkland, accompanied by a band of bounty hunters, apparently needing to track down a Cell, because Roderich had somehow been kidnapped by rebel fighters?

Yeah, they hadn’t explained the whole situation very well, and the results which Eduard had come up with didn’t seem to alleviate any of their fears. One of the bounty hunters, a girl with short blond hair, honestly looked like she was about to be sick when Eduard mentioned Galee. It had taken some questioning on their Captain’s part before she admitted that one of her colleagues who had been captured – her half-brother – was a taint, and therefore verifiably fucked, if the rebels that had taken them had in fact stopped by Galee.

Natalya huffed. “Poor fucker, though to be fair, he shouldn’t have been stupid enough to get himself captured.” The apparent leader of the bounty hunters, a tall Rywanese man named Matthias, glared at her, seemingly unafraid of the many knives visible on her person.

“Oh, right, because they asked to be attacked and seriously wounded.” He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Natalya glared at him, and the tall man simply glared back.

“Ugh, listen, is there any way for us to track down their current location?” another one of the hunters, Antonio, asked. Eduard frowned, facing his screen again.

“Perhaps if you travel to the Golmi System where Cyypraa is. But there’s no guarantee that they haven’t travelled out of range of Golmi as well. Really, the only way to track someone over such a far distance is to plant a tracker on their ship, or on their body.” He sat back. “Sorry to say it, but I wouldn’t have much confidence that you’re going to find them.”

The girl leapt to her feet. “But we have to find them! Gil is my brother, I can’t just abandon him!” Eduard had to fight hard to not remind her that he was technically only her half-brother, and before he could say something else, he was interrupted by Natalya.

“Well he’s a taint who apparently was on Galee for over 5 days. I wouldn’t have too much hope if I were you.” The girl reeled back like she had been slapped, then threw her a look of loathing.

“Shut up, you don’t know my brother.” Natalya ignored her words, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“It is a shame, really, especially considering what we found out on Jhobras, right Yael?” the Iramese girl raised her head when she heard her name, but sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t bring me into this, Natalya.” She warned, going back to the piece of wood she was carving. Natalya faced the other girl again.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this, bounty hunter-”

“My name’s Louise.” The girl interrupted. Natalya rolled her eyes.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this, _Louise_ , but there _is_ a way for taints to hide their scent from even Garvich.” Louise stared at her, seemingly not believing her. Yael, however, looked up.

“Oh don’t start on that, Natalya. You remember what the merchant guy said. Effective, but extraordinarily dangerous?” Yael leant forward, this time addressing Louise. “There is an actual way to hide it, but it’s honestly more harmful than helpful. I wouldn’t listen to her.”

Louise looked between the two of them, seeming both wary and curious. “What method?”

Natalya settled back, looking satisfied now that she had managed to peak her interest. “Simple, you just need something which obscures everything else about a person’s scent. Something which can invade their whole bloodstream.” Natalya paused for a moment, tilting her head slightly, before continuing. “And by that, I mean Chalydrantis.” A look of disgust crossed Louise’s face, and she turned away.

“I should have known you were full of shit.” Natalya raised an eyebrow at her response.

“What? It actually works, they had a demonstration and everything.”

“Yeah, but I’m not an idiot. You’d seriously risk giving someone Chalydrantis?” Louise shot back. Natalya rolled her eyes again (she seemed to be doing that a lot lately).

“Please. Chalydrantis isn’t contagious. They just inject some of the toxins into the bloodstream, wait ten minutes, and boom, a taint will be Garvich-proof for 48 hours.” Before Louise could respond, another bounty hunter, Alfred, cut in.

“Wait, how is that possible?” he asked, brow furrowing in confusion. Natalya looked him over before apparently deeming him worthy of a response.

“Well, you know how Chalydrantis pretty much creates deadlier versions of tumours? Well those tumours actually constantly release toxins which are highly detrimental to the person suffering from it. That’s why death from Chalydrantis is so quick. It’s also why Malthecs is only really a temporary cure, because the toxins, instead of being released into the bloodstream, are being contained inside the tumour. It takes several years for Malthecs to stop working, though, so people still pay out thousands for that shit.” She paused for a minute. “Anyway, the point is, those toxins, when they’re in your bloodstream, they’re so potent that literally all other aspects of your blood become hard to distinguish.” Yael was nodding.

“Yeah,” she said, directing her words to both Natalya and Alfred, “I actually heard that doctors can find it hard to determine what blood type you are if you have Chalydrantis. Apparently they give everyone one shot of Malthecs after they’re diagnosed, just so they can find out.” Natalya nodded.

“That’s also why Chalydrantis is so deadly, with poison that strong rushing through your veins.” Natalya shrugged. “You get diagnosed, you’re kinda fucked.” She turned her head to look at the rest of her crewmates. “What’s the life expectancy, actually? Does anyone know? Captain, you’re kind of sciency, right?”

Arthur rolled his eyes at that. “I don’t really know what it is that makes you think that Natalya, but,” he sighed, “I think it’s…3 months? 4? It isn’t much, I know that.”

Alfred let out a low whistle. “Damn, that is bad.” Arthur shrugged at his statement.

“It’s a disease, it’s incurable, and science has known about it for over 400 years. I really don’t understand why everyone still thinks it’s so tragic.”

“Maybe because it _is_ incurable, at least right now. If you get diagnosed, you know that you’re not going to live a very long life.” Eduard added. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes, it’s a very romantic concept and all, but shouldn’t we be focussing on the issue at hand?”

Francis raised an eyebrow. “Chalydrantis is a current issue, though. Don’t 99% of it’s patients die within 6 months? Are you saying that that isn’t worth attention?”

Arthur glared at him. “I mean to say that the issue of Chalydrantis will still be here long after we all are.” He jerked his head towards the map. “Our friends will not be. Unless you’re fine with letting them go and be murdered by the rebels?”

Francis scowled at him. “You know that’s not what I meant. I was just trying to get you to understand that–”

“Oh quit it.” Matthias sighed. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to more of your pointless arguments.” The two looked like they wanted to argue the point, but conceded to Matthias, and fell silent. The tall blonde seemed to almost sigh in relief, before he leaned down to re-examine the map which Eduard had created. He jabbed at a small, barely visible speck on the far-left side of the map. “Here.”

Ivan leaned towards the table, frowning when he saw where Matthias was pointing.

“The Hyfta System? We were just there. How will that help?” Matthias grinned in response.

“The Hyfta System is part of the Far Reaches, right? The only really urbanised planet in there, and also the only one to draw any of the Union’s attention, is Jhobras. The others, however, are not. As we know, Aralos is full of criminals, Dryx has such a volatile surface that everyone lives underground, Qyyyt is a prison planet, and Raevis has a toxic atmosphere. What does that leave us?” the others leant forward more, squinting at the small piece of text. Eduard, who knew his galactic geography, answered.

“Nyma.” He said simply. Matthias drew away from the map, grinning.

“Rumours about the Resistance being in the Hyfta System have existed for years. It’s the only real sensible choice, considering how distant it is. There’s nothing out there which could really catch their interest, and most of that system’s inhabitants are indifferent at best to the Union, and filled with loathing at worst, so they wouldn’t even really be opposed.” He rubbed his hands together.  
“I’ve been reading a little bit,” he continued, “and Nyma was just recently removed from the Union’s list of safe planets because of suspected terrorist cells. Anyone with a brain can guess that by that they mean the rebels. Not to mention, the ongoing war over Katye’s Plain has, within the last few years, swung in the favour of the Coysash people. This began to change about 4504CC, which is also a little after the Union drove the rebellion out of their last known base.” Matthias looked up, ignoring the stunned expressions on everyone else’s faces as they absorbed this information.

“So,” Louise said slowly, “All we have to do is go to Nyma and investigate the…what was it again?”

“Coysash people.” Yael helpfully filled in for her. Louise nodded.

“Yes, them. If that’s all, that doesn’t seem so hard.” Though Matthias looked excited, Arthur was frowning.

“I hate to discourage you, but there’s several reasons why that is _not_ easy.” As everyone turned to face him, he continued. “First of all, the territory of the Coysash is some of the largest on all of Nyma. It covers about 8 million square kilometres.” He tapped at a few menus on his Cell, before placing it on the table so everyone could see the map of Nyma he had pulled up. “The territory of the Mugarobe people, the ones they are at war with, borders them on two sides, and the other two sides are bordered by the Sulig Mountains.” He zoomed in on the map to show them this. Ivan shrugged.

“So what? We can just land in Coysash territory.” Arthur was shaking his head before Ivan had even finished his sentence.

“No, we can’t. The only way to enter Coysash territory is through Mugarobe territory. There’s a small strip right on the edge of Katye’s Plain which is neutral territory for travellers to move across. We would be able to enter through there, it’s true, but we would have to undergo countless identity checks. The Coysash viciously defend their airspace. They shoot down everything, including their own vessels, and they have radars which can detect even cloaked ships. Approaching from the air would be impossible. Not to mention, I’m fairly sure that if we wanted to get to the resistance, if they are there in the first place, there would be some sort of password or protocol to get through. We’d need nothing short of a technology and weaponry expert to get inside. I do agree with your assessment that the rebels are most likely on Nyma, Matthias, it is probably one of the safest places possible for them. But that doesn’t matter. We can’t bluff our way through. They have too many failsafes.”

A silence descended upon the table at Arthur’s final words. It was broken only by Natalya.

“An expert you say?” they all turned to look at her. She straightened up a little. “I may know someone who is able to get us to Coysash territory. They’re one of Roderich’s old contacts. Apparently he’s a real hard-ass, but he might soften up a little if he knows Roderich is missing.” Arthur just frowned again.

“Well, if you know someone who can help, then I guess we should give it a shot.”

Francis raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised that you’re so invested in saving them.” He said. Arthur glared at him.

“Of course I am. Roderich is our book-keeper. How else am I supposed to record all of my profits?” Francis folded his arms with a huff and a muttered ‘of course’. Arthur turned back to Natalya. “Where are they? Do you know?”

She nodded. “The Falloweil system.”

“Oh.” Arthur winced. Francis threw his hands up in the air.

“What is it now?” he demanded.

Arthur groaned. “Well, I don’t know if any of you knew this, but I’m pretty much Outlaw #1 in the Falloweil System. There’s no way I’d be able to get past any of their security gates. Not unless I knew someone on the inside.”

Natalya was frowning, looking at her Cell. “Well,” she began, “The security gateways at Loszok are notoriously less guarded than those in Kramis, Fordanask or Gaulhig.” She looked up. “Is there any way you can establish a connection in Loszok in a few weeks?” Arthur looked caught off guard for a moment.

“Loszok?” he hesitated, “I…I may already know somebody there, actually, who may be willing to help me.” He jabbed a finger in her direction. “That isn’t a promise, though, know that. If I can’t get through, you’ll all have to go by yourselves.” Natalya nodded. Eduard looked around at everyone, confidence showing on their faces now as they stared down at the map of Rela.

They had a plan, or a rough outline of one anyway. They could get their friends back.

Eduard just hoped that they didn’t end up dying before that could happen.


	18. The Moments We Have Waited For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone, and welcome to 2018!! Being Australian, I've already celebrated New Years Eve, but to anyone else who hasn't: I hope you have fun!!
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- Elizabeta has told Matthew about Alfred. The group of rebels, along with their prisoners, are close to Nyma  
> \- Feliciano and Lovino got to know Vash a little better  
> \- Arthur's pirate crew, and the remaining bounty hunters, are planning to hire someone to get them to the rebels
> 
> I am actually very proud of this chapter guys! I wrote it in a single day, but I think it turned out well.
> 
> NEW CHARACTERS!  
> Louis = Luxembourg  
> Vladimir Popescu = Romania  
> Cera Bannion = Ancient Celtic Empire (yes really)  
> Kabeeta Tripathi = Nepal  
> Kristian Alekseev = Bulgaria
> 
> And, just in case anyone forgot  
> Nelia Domingo = Peru
> 
> Please comment and tell me what you think! :D

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,  
28 th Fybwari

Kari almost cried when the familiar, flat-topped appearance of Draak-Zafi’s dragon trees came into view. It had been weeks since their mission to rescue Elizabeta had begun, and finally, blessedly, it had come to an end. Conversations about what to do with their interesting prisoners had plagued them for days, and Matthew, despite being their leader, had done nothing to help, constantly looking lost in thought. Kari hadn’t asked what was on his mind. She understood from the deep, melancholic look in his eyes that he was likely thinking about his past. Kari herself normally looked like that whenever her thoughts turned towards Fynkn, and the home and family that she had lost there.

After a great deal of arguing and stress on her own behalf, as well as that of the others, they had decided to just bring them to their base. Yao would be able to reason with the situation far better than any of them anyway, and ransoming them off would only be beneficial to them. The Resistance was always happy to receive funds. Just from glancing around the cabin, Kari could tell she wasn’t the only one glad to be returning home. Matthew was smiling, for the first time in days, and Elizabeta was actually pressed up against the glass, drinking in the sight of the scalding hot desert she had once complained about so frequently.

Carlotta stumbled into the cockpit and strapped herself in as they began to descend. She had been responsible for blindfolding, gagging and tying up their prisoners more securely. The freedom which they had been given recently definitely wouldn’t go over well with their superiors. Just imagining the sort of lecture they would receive from Vice General Papadopoulos made her ears hurt. The hull of the ship rattled as the ground approached sharply. Had anyone but Abel been piloting the ship, Kari may have been concerned, but she had seen him pull off tight spins and turns in X and Y-wing fighters, along with LWF Volants, which were notoriously hard-to-handle ships. Considering he could handle ships like those with style and poise, she trusted him to land their light-weight starship without turning them into an inferno.

It had shocked her, honestly, when she had checked her Cell only to find that they had departed on this mission over a month ago. Time really flies when you’re saving your friend from a group of pirates, kidnapping criminals and generally trying and failing to stay under the radar. She had been away from their base in Draak-Zafi for a lot longer, but something about this mission had dug down to her core. There was a lingering sense of urgency inside her which told her that returning now was a good thing. She didn’t know what had sparked the sensation – which had been present since they’d reentered the Hyfta System – but she trusted her instincts and intuition more than almost anything, save maybe Yao and her mother.

Abel seemed to be having the time of his life entering the runway on such a steep decline; his face had lit up with joy, and he was shifting the controls, pressing buttons and flicking switches faster than she could comprehend. Despite being his sister, Bella had not inherited the same love of flight, and was gripping the arms of her chair with white knuckles, eyes blown wide with alarm. Matthew seemed to read her mind and looked over towards her, bursting out in laughter when he spotted her expression. It was a testament to how frightened the girl was that she didn’t even raise her hand to flip him off; she settled instead for a vicious glare sent in his direction. Swallowing his giggles, Matthew turned back to the console, which he was helping Abel operate. He may have only been a trainee pilot, but Matt had a skill and calmness about him which suggested that he would soon be amazing at all things aviation.

The scorching cement was under their plane’s landing gear just a few moments later, and Kari looked up through the windows to see a crowd of people approaching the ship as they shuddered to a stop. Bella breathed a sigh of relief so loud it was borderline insulting, and Matthew laughed again at her facial expression, which she was now confident enough to respond to with a one-finger salute, before she clambered out of her seat and made for the door. Kari was soon following, unbuckling her safety belt with unusually clumsy fingers. Abel began to shut down the ship’s systems, as they had completed their flight. Considering how battered their ship had become during the past four weeks, it would be spending a fair amount of time in the repairs sector.

A crowd of people, growing larger with every moment, had gathered a safe distance from the ship, the bottom of which Kari could now see was smoking faintly (no doubt from their high-speed landing). She smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. They were home, finally, and with Elizabeta in tow. Not only had they succeeded, they had all come back alive, which was almost unheard of nowadays. She could see multiple people who she knew. Nelia had spotted her through the window and was waving excitedly. Romeo Bianchi, standing near her, quickly began to do the same.

Bella had managed to shove the door open and stagger out, blinking in the harsh, bright sunlight which greeted them. Kari heard a loud whoop of joy, before a boy with curly ash-brown hair had launched himself at Bella and started hugging her around the waist. She smiled. Louis, Abel and Bella’s youngest brother, was only 14, and thus considered far too young to ever go on dangerous missions with his older siblings. It got to him a fair amount, as Kari understood it. She herself remembered when she’d been too young to go anywhere, and the endless frustration that was brought with it. How many times had she watched older, more experienced friends wave in farewell and board ships, never to return? Louis waved at her as well, grinning widely.

She waved back, eyes scanning the crowd, who were now pressing in on them, bursting with questions. Two in particular were being circulated a lot: “Did they succeed? Did they get Liz back?” Kari grinned as she heard a muffled shout from inside the ship, and stood aside as Elizabeta stumbled out, greeted by more than 50 people yelling in delight and relief. She grinned, looking happy despite her worn-out appearance, and immediately set to hugging everyone she could reach. When Abel clambered out of the ship after her, he was subjected to the same treatment as Bella by his little brother. He just grinned, ruffling up Louis’ already wild hair.

There was a small commotion in the crowd as someone moved through. Yao emerged after a moment, dressed as he always was; green double-breasted jacket with a high collar, thick black gloves, dark pants and thick-soled boots. The smile on his face was small, but genuine, and Kari grinned when she approached him. He surveyed the group’s smiling, happy faces, and turned to face her.

“I presume, judging by how excited you all are, that you were not only successful, but with no casualties?”

She nodded. “We got a few injuries on the way,” Kari said, knowing that Yao had already spotted her bandaged arm, “but we all came back alive.”

“I suppose that’s the best we can ask for in times like these?” he said, tilting his head a little.

She nodded, then remained stoic for only a moment longer, before she gave in and hugged him. It was almost instinctual, and Yao always felt so familial and caring that she felt like she was embracing her own father again. He reciprocated her hug, to her inner delight, and as she went to pull away, she heard the words he muttered in her ear.

“After you’ve been debriefed, bring Matthew and Elizabeta with you to see me. A lot has happened while you’ve been gone.” He smiled calmly when they separated, as though he had never spoken. She blinked, but returned it, mind racing as she processed the almost grave tone he had used. What had happened? They had only been gone for a month. Looking around, she could see no visible, physical difference, at least not on the airfield. The people around them were familiar, and there didn’t seem to be any underlying tone of fear or tension in their faces. Whatever it was, it wasn’t being widely broadcast by Yao and other Resistance officials.

The matter of what Yao had to tell her, Matt and Liz had to wait, however, as Carlotta emerged from the ship, telling everyone to clear a path.

“Anyone here who can handle a rowdy captive, I could really use some help right now!” she shouted. Nelia, upon hearing the pronouncement, darted forwards, trailed by Vladimir Popescu – a bomb and detonation expert, and the terrifying Incandan commander Cera Bannion. The four clambered up into the ship. Yao raised an eyebrow at this, turning to Kari for elaboration.

“We got some prisoners.” She said simply. “And we didn’t really know what to do with them.” Yao nodded, and helped to clear a path through the crowd. A moment later, Matthew emerged, leading the prisoner they had nicknamed ‘Ghoul’. The albino had been markedly less trouble after their run-in with the Garvich on Galee, ceasing his habit of biting at them when they were trying to adjust his bonds or give him food, and thus Matthew didn’t seem very concerned about him running off. His grip on the bounty hunter’s arm was gentle but firm. That, she could tell even from this distance.

Following them out was Vladimir, who was pulling along their only female captive. They’d nicknamed her Eslin, but eventually gave in and used her real name; Tori. She didn’t seem to be struggling much either, though she certainly didn’t seem happy about being tugged along by a stranger. Cera had Roderich, who Kari had turned to calling by his actual name only because he at least had some goddamn manners about him. The dark-haired man was fairly docile, stumbling a little for the blindfold over his face, but otherwise managing to keep himself upright rather well. They would need to get a medic to look at his head. Kari and Matthew’s combined medical knowledge had helped them deduce that he had a concussion at least, but they were far from trained doctors, and a pirate he may be, but they still didn’t want his death on their hands if his injury was far more serious than it seemed.

Nelia had been given the fiery Pyndaphian man to handle, which was a sensible choice in Kari’s opinion. He had already proved himself as the most capable of the four during the fight on Galee, managing to take down two grown Garvich even when he himself was badly injured. Nelia herself was one of the few people that consistently beat Kari in hand-to-hand combat, and was the best trainer (and one of the best fighters) that the rebels had to offer. If anyone could keep the sly blonde under control, it was her.

Yao scrutinised them for a moment, before barking out a command for them to be taken to the cell blocks and contained until they could find further use of them. The four holding them nodded, and Yao smiled at Matthew, congratulating him on the successful mission as he passed. He grinned, shouting a ‘thanks!’ over his shoulder as they went by. He gestured to the five of them who still stood there.

“You know the drill. Take the ship in for repairs, then it’s to debriefing for you lot.” He said. Abel groaned, but nodded, and Bella smacked her older brother’s arm, rolling her eyes as she did so, before moving to speak with the mechanics who had already assembled around the ship to survey the damage. Yao said nothing more to Kari, marching off across the sun-scorched tarmac without so much as a backwards glance. She could feel her stomach turning over. He had something important to tell her, Matthew and Elizabeta. Whatever it was, though, it could wait. Ignoring the burning curiosity which had surged up inside her, she turned her back to the Yanish man, and began helping direct the ship into a hangar.

* * *

Walking while blindfolded was never an easy task, but it was much less so when the ground they were walking on was _so damn uneven_. At first, they had been led across a surface that was flat and straight (a runway, likely, considering how much jolting the ship had done before they were rudely yanked from the room they had been kept in). It hadn’t been that bad, especially given that Gilbert was being led along by Matthew. He could only tell initially that it was Alfred’s doppelganger who was leading him from the smell. Ground coffee, leather, machine oil and peppermint; he had recognised the smell from Galee, when the rebel had been comforting him after the Garvich attack. It had only been the gentle hold on his arm, and the small warnings and directions being murmured into his ear which had confirmed his suspicion.

Though he could hear Feliks and Tori stumbling and cursing behind him, Matthew was being courteous enough to warn him of steps, dips and other obstacles in his path. Evidently the other rebels leading his friends weren’t so kind. He knew that they weren’t their captors from their voices; heavy accents and unfamiliar slang had met his ears when they had released them to drag them from the ship. Given that they had been bound more tightly, and blindfolded, they were likely in some sort of base or outpost, the location and layout of which the rebels didn’t want them to know. Gilbert couldn’t blame them, but it was still annoying not being able to see. At least, if the heat around him was anything to go on, they were on some sort of hot or desert planet. Gilbert’s eyes were sensitive at the best of times; maybe being blindfolded was better than being blinded by a massive sun or two.

After maybe 10 minutes of walking and stumbling over what Gilbert would have sworn were tree roots had he not known better (they felt much too large to be such), he felt the heat on the back of his neck disappear, and a coolness surround him; they were inside some sort of building. The blindfold was removed from his eyes by gentle hands, and he blinked when he found himself face to face with Matthew, who was frowning in concern. He felt his cheeks redden when he noticed that the rebel’s eyes were violet. Not a dark, almost menacing shade like Ivan’s, but a light, soft colour, like the wisteria flowers which used to grow near his house on Incanda. Thankfully, the flush on his cheeks was mistaken for heat, as Matthew turned to one of the other rebels, a tall, strong-looking woman of maybe 35, and asked if she could bring them some water. She nodded, leaving a now unbound Roderich and marching out of the building they were in.

As he forced his mind away from kickass doppelgangers and wisteria flowers, Gilbert noticed the building they were in. The walls were made of dark grey cement, worn smooth by what seemed to be water. It had a low ceiling, though not so low that anyone present had to stoop, and was only about 30 metres long. There was a wide, door-less opening on either side, through which Gilbert could see little from the intense sun-glare outside. Dotted along the walls, at maybe 6-metre intervals, were barred doors, leading into small rooms with no windows. His stomach dropped. They were in a prison. A small prison, to be certain, but a prison nonetheless. For days and days, he, Roderich, Tori and Feliks had debated over what the rebels would do with them. Apparently, a sort of waiting game was in order.

Not even a moment after this thought crossed his mind, he felt his handcuffs being removed, and the other bonds keeping him contained loosened, before he was escorted (read: shoved) into the cell, with the other three tumbling after him. The door shut with an ominous clanging noise behind them, and they whirled around as Matthew leaned forward, hands resting on the bars, eyes skimming over them. He sighed.

“I know that you technically haven’t done anything wrong, or, at least, nothing to really harm the resistance, and that you were all just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but we still have to hold you captive.” Feliks groaned but didn’t argue at all, letting himself slump down the wall until he was seated on the ground. He may have been the strongest fighter in their small band, but he was still recovering. Roderich nodded, looking like there was a sour taste in his mouth. Tori crossed her arms but looked resigned to their fate; she had lost a lot of her hostility for them after hearing a bit more about why they wanted Elizabeta back, and how they had defended them on Galee.

Gilbert made eye contact with Matthew, forcing him to hold it. Unlike the other times this had happened (like on Galee), Matthew was now the first to look away. He cleared his throat and continued. “I have a strong suspicion that the higher ups will post a bail for you. If your friends really want you back, they just have to pay and we’ll release you. Considering that the lot of you are pirates and bounty hunters, I doubt any price that they give will break the bank for your friends.” His gaze turned towards Feliks and Roderich. “I’ll have a medic sent in to look over you two and make sure none of your injuries are serious. I have some medical skill, but don’t trust me to make accurate diagnoses.”

He straightened up, pulling his arms off the bars as the tall woman re-entered with a wooden jug and some cups, which she shoved through the slot in the door meant for food. Matthew looked them over once more, and Gilbert would have sworn that he hesitated for a moment before nodding and following the woman outside.

Tori sighed, scooping up the cups, filling each with water from the jug before handing one to each of them. Feliks accepted his with murmured thanks, glaring at the ground. Gilbert sighed, joining him on the floor. Roderich and Tori followed suit within seconds. There was silence for several minutes, before Tori spoke up, sounding oddly shaky.

“Do you think they’ll actually come for us?”

Feliks looked over at her. She had set her cup on the floor, and was wringing her hands worriedly, bottom lip trembling almost imperceptibly. He scooted over, wrapping his arm around her.

“They will. Matthias has a lot more savings than you think.” It was only from years of friendship and mild rivalry that Gilbert spotted the flash of doubt in Feliks’ eyes.

“Even if they don’t,” Roderich said, “Arthur would likely give them a loan of some sort.” Tori looked up.

“How are you so sure that Kirkland will come for you?” she asked, relaxing a little into Feliks’ arm. Roderich shrugged.

“I’m useful enough to him that he would pay for me.” He said. “Nothing more, nothing less. I won’t pretend that we’re amazing friends, but I am useful to him.” He looked down. “Hopefully, I’m useful enough to justify whatever bail the rebels set on our heads.” Tori nodded, leaning her head on Feliks’ shoulder and closing her eyes, fatigue overtaking her.

“Wake me if they bring food.” She mumbled. Gilbert grinned. Even though she had displayed some rare insecurity and fear, she at least still her priorities solidly in place. He leaned back, staring at the stone ceiling. This wasn’t going to be pleasant, that he could already tell, but it was survivable. And he had been through far worse, hadn’t he? He could tell the exact same thought was in his cousin’s head when his gaze shifted towards him. Gilbert huffed, sliding down into a lying position. Tori was right. Sleep was a good idea.

* * *

It took nearly three hours to get the ship safely in the hangar, do inventory with the mechanics, visit their lovely medic Kabeeta (who was called on to check on their prisoners not long after Kari got to the med tent), get her wound dressed and rebandaged, shower and change clothes, dump her belongings in her living quarters and make her way to debriefing. Luckily, Abel, Elizabeta and Carlotta had made it there faster than she had, having no injuries to be checked. Bella bolted in a moment after she did, having gotten carried away with a lunch cart she’d spotted on her way, and Matthew materialised another ten minutes after that, having been organising a guard for their bounty hunter friends.

Since Liz, Abel and Carlotta were halfway through their report when Kari staggered in, debriefing was blessedly shorter than usual. She, Matthew and Bella were called on to verify certain things, but the senior officer debriefing them – Vice Admiral Raneem Asgar – trusted Elizabeta, and so released them much sooner than normal. Kari had managed to seize Elizabeta before she got too far, and the pair were making their way towards Matthew, when Tino appeared. Kari had to try hard to not groan. She adored Tino; basically everyone who met him did; but she really wanted to know what Yao needed to say. Her frustration was dispelled, however, the second he turned his 1000-watt grin on her and gave her a ‘welcome back’ hug. She never could stay mad at him. Her irritation was further pushed to the back of her mind when she spotted the new pin on his lapel, and she nearly screeched in delight.

“Tino! When did you get promoted?” the moment the words were out of her mouth, Matthew and Elizabeta noted the badge and began to fire off questions rapidly. Tino laughed, leaning back and waving his hands.

“Ahh! Calm down, guys, no need to shout when I’m only two feet in front of you.” He was smiling happily, however. “Yao promoted me about a week ago. No clue why he did it.” Matthew rolled his eyes, and Elizabeta punched the sniper in the arm.

“There you go being all modest again.” She laughed, wagging her finger in a reprimanding manner. “Boasting is okay every now and then, you know!” he shook his head slightly, still smiling.

“Yeah, yeah, so you’ve told me.” He laughed. Kari jumped back into the conversation.

“So how’s being a First Lieutenant feel?” she asked, grin wide.

“Pretty good.” He said, smiling, “Kristian tried to order me to get him food, before he noticed that I’m above in rank now.” Kari laughed just at the thought. Kristian Alekseev, another sniper from Tino’s elite division, was a great kid, and never meant things like that seriously. He was also a Second Lieutenant, which indeed now meant that he was a subordinate to Tino. Elizabeta snorted when she heard that news. Kristian was only 17, but he did earn every promotion he got.

“So, are you gonna call him ‘maggot’ and make him do your laundry now?” Matthew asked, waggling his eyebrows up and down in a conspiratorial manner. Tino rolled his eyes.

“There isn’t that much of a difference between First and Second Lieutenants,” he scolded, “And no, Kristian’s a good kid.” Matthew pouted, looking disappointed.

“Damn, that would have been good to see.” Tino laughed, before giving a start.

“Oh!” he shook his head, “I get carried away too easily. I really should not be trusted as a messenger.” He looked up. “Yao wants to see you three, over by his tent, now.”

Kari remained calm, even as Matthew and Elizabeta’s eyes widened, looking surprised. So, Tino knew what Yao was going to tell them. Or, at least, he was trusted enough to be aware that there was something important Yao had to tell them, without necessarily knowing the details themselves. Yao was a cautious creature – he had been ever since he joined the resistance, something which few people other than Kari actually remembered – but that didn’t mean he didn’t trust people. Tino was about to set off in another direction, when Elizabeta grabbed his arm, frowning.

“Wait, where are you going?” Tino looked back at her over his shoulder.

“I have to fetch something important. Yao will explain.” He gently shook off her arm, before waving them in the direction of Yao’s tent with his hands. “Go.”

Kari took off towards the tent, seeing Matthew take Elizabeta’s arm to pull her along after him in her peripheral vision. So Tino did know about...whatever this was. Her mind was racing, but she couldn’t imagine what Yao could have to tell them.

She must have reached Yao’s tent in record time, ignoring Matthew’s calls for her to slow down. Curiosity was almost consuming her, and she knew that it would probably be something insignificant, but her heart was racing nonetheless. Yao’s tent was well separated from the living quarters of everyone else. As far as she knew, it was always like that for the leaders of the resistance. Yao was a very private person, and most people didn’t know anything about him. Not his hometown, age, interests and hobbies, and definitely not why he kept most of his body covered. His gloves were the most infamous example, but Kari had noticed that he kept the rest of his body concealed as well. Neck, arms, torso, legs…she had seen none of it, not once in the almost 9 years that she had known him.

The man of mystery himself was standing outside, gaze fixed on the shooting range, a good two hundred metres away. There was nothing, and no-one, nearby. Realising that, should this be something important or confidential, they would likely be speaking inside his personal quarters, made her suddenly uncomfortable. Her footsteps slowed, finally letting Matt and Liz catch up. She had never been inside Yao’s personal quarters; she doubted there were many, if any, who had. Kari was content with Yao’s private nature. She didn’t burn with the desire to know the details of his life and identity like some other rebels did. He was a reclusive person, yes, but he was brilliant, and she trusted him with her life. That had always been enough. He was like a second father to her, even though she doubted he was old enough to be such a thing for someone of her age. And he let her see him and treat him as such. To overstep the unspoken boundary which had existed since the day they’d met; it felt almost criminal.

Yao looked up as they neared, expression oddly blank. There was something grave in his eyes, and he nodded austerely in greeting to them, attitude vastly different to the joy-filled leader who had greeted them on the runway several hours previous.

“Ah, you’re here. Good. I have a few important things to go over with you three.” He gestured inside. “It’s better if we have this conversation away from prying eyes and ears.”

Matthew, who had always had a good sense for people, could tell instantly that she was uncomfortable. He moved past her, hand brushing over her elbow briefly, as he went in, Elizabeta followed him. Kari hesitated, and Yao smiled slightly.

“You aren’t intruding in any way, Kari, this is an invitation.” He said softly. Of course, he knew what was going through her head. She nodded, before brushing the tent flaps apart and following her friends.

It was hardly dimmer inside than it had been out. Upon looking around, Kari saw that a section of the tent’s ceiling was made of clear tarpaulin material, allowing light to shine through. Lanterns (currently unlit) were also hung around the metal posts which supported the tent’s fabric. It was clear just from a glance that Yao spent a lot of what little free time he got in here. No matter how tidy he was in their meeting rooms, here was another story. A desk stood against one part of the curved ‘wall’, and was almost covered in files, photographs and storage disks. A laptop sat on one corner, and she could also see a Cell nearby. Beside this was a filing cabinet, which appeared to be nearly overflowing for the number of folders and papers shoved inside. An almost dangerously high stack of books sat on top, and three more surrounded it on the floor. A wicker basket, also on the floor, was about a third of the height of the stack of newspapers and archaic books inside it.

On the opposite side of the room appeared to be Yao’s more personal things. A bed had been shoved right into the corner of the tent, and was clearly scarcely used. A dresser-drawer, no doubt full of clothes and other personal effects, had a shallow stone basin – like those used for hand-washing – sat on top, as well a few bottles of herbal balm used on wounds like burns, and several rolls of bandages. Next to this, sitting on the floor, was a half-metre tall pile of ammunition boxes that had an assault rifle leaning against them, as well as a rack with other weapons stacked inside, including, Kari noted, a set of traditional Yanish _jiani_ swords.

In the middle of the room was a small, round table – the kind made in the Kyrs System, around which people usually knelt or sat on the floor – with an assortment of random objects on it. Among the mess, she spotted a half-assembled bomb (hopefully not active), a kit of screwdrivers, a tin of rose sencha tea (with an empty, chipped teacup nearby), a thermometer of all things, and a stack of photographs bound together with string. A simple, but surprisingly large rug covered the ground, and a pipe with a tap on the end (for water) stuck up from the ground near the doorway.

It was…messy, but the type of messy which told her that Yao could find anything and everything he needed just as it was now. She heard Elizabeta huff as Yao followed them in.

“All those times you’ve lectured me about keeping my living quarters clean and tidy,” she tutted, “and you’ve been hiding this mess?” Yao smiled.

“Well, Elizabeta, you share your living quarters with other people. I do not. It’s a matter of courtesy, not necessarily cleanliness.” She raised an eyebrow, and looked around.

“Clearly.” She said simply. Yao bowed his head briefly.

“I do apologise for the mess, but we need to have this conversation in peace and quiet.” Matthew turned to him now.

“And what if someone approaches from outside and listens in?” he inquired. At this, Yao smiled and held up the Cell on his desk.

“I have sensors concealed around the perimeter of this tent, just outside of hearing range. If anyone comes nearby, this Cell will pick it up and alert me.” He placed it down again, folding his hands behind his back. “Now, if those are all of your questions, I would like to get into why I called you here in the first place.”

The three of them fell completely silent as Yao gazed at the ground for a moment, rubbing at a stone embedded into the rug with his boot.

“We have a spy in our ranks.” He said, with absolutely no preamble. “They are of a considerable position, judging by the sort of information that has been leaked to the Union. They are using a single-frequency radio to contact them, likely, as it is yet to be picked up on any of our own scanners. The frequency is likely unknown and undetectable to anyone but those who have it’s exact value.” They barely had time to absorb this information before he was continuing.

“We have been conducting an in-depth vetting process for the last few weeks to try and determine who this spy is. Anyone with remotely suspicious origins, files or behaviour has been flagged and will be investigated extensively. It is a slow process, given how many of us there are, and over such long distances for our comrades in outposts, but we are gradually clearing our database and narrowing down who our little rat is.” he paused briefly.

“Currently, all of our Generals, Vice-Generals, Admirals and Vice-Admirals are aware that this vetting is taking place, as the three of you also now are, of course. It is absolutely essential that we find out who is leaking information to the Union, and determine if they are acting alone, or are a part of a larger plot. So far, we have cleared about 2,000 of our fighters.” Kari saw Matthew’s eyes widen. There were millions of people in the rebel alliance. And in about 3 weeks, they had only cleared 2,000 people? If it continued at that rate, they would be vetting people for decades. Yao correctly guessed what their shocked expressions meant.

“As more people are found to be uncorrupted and trustworthy, more resources are available to help in the process. It is speeding up with every person we clear. Not to mention, as the files recently copied and sent to the Union were sent from here, we can assume whoever it is, they are currently, or are normally, posted here in Draak-Zafi.” He paused to take a deep breath, and Elizabeta seized the opportunity to ask a question.

“But, Yao, we’ve had spies before, and we’ve never needed such an extensive response.”

Yao nodded. “That is true. We have been aware of the spy for a while, and were trying to deal with the issue in a discreet way. However, due to recent developments, it is necessary for us to get rid of this spy and all others like them, as soon as is possible. They currently pose a much larger threat to us than they previously have.” He let the words sink in, but continued before any of them could ask another question.

“We have recently acquired something, which will prove absolutely invaluable to this cause. It’s aid and impact could change the tide of this whole conflict. For that reason, we cannot let even the smallest whisper of knowledge escape and make it’s way to the Union. They would destroy entire planets to find us and get their hands on it. As of now, Yaretzi Chapula, Mohammed Hassan, Silje Krissen, Tino and myself are aware of this. With you three, there are now only 8 people in this whole movement who know about this. If any of you, even accidentally, reveals information about this,” he paused, expression almost chilling, “I hate to say it, but I will shoot you without hesitation.” He lowered his gaze a little as they stared, shocked. Kari’s gaze flickered briefly to the assault rifle behind her, and felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. A small beeping noise interrupted the silence, and Yao turned to his Cell, tapping something, observing the screen for a moment, then muting the device.

“You must understand how crucial this is,” he said, voice returning to the softer, kinder tone which Kari knew, “I must also say, that the reason I decided to hold this meeting here, is that I feared that you may be overheard if it was held elsewhere.” Elizabeta’s eyes widened.

“Did you think we’d say something? Or overreact?” she inquired, sounding almost insulted.

“No,” Yao said simply, turning briefly to the slightly-open door to nod at someone outside – no doubt whoever had triggered the sensors earlier – before looking at her again. “I feared that Kari would.” Before she even had a chance to retort, the flaps of the tent opened, and Tino entered, flanked by two teenagers. One was a young man, perhaps an inch or so taller than Kari, and the second was a girl, several years younger than the boy, with long hair.

They honestly caught her off guard. The pair were Fynknian, that she noted immediately, but other than that were unextraordinary. Judging by the dubious looks on Matthew and Elizabeta’s faces, they thought the same.

“Why would you think that I would accidentally let someone overhear?” she demanded, facing Yao. “You’ve know me for years! Do you really think I would be so careless?” he shrugged.

“In this case, yes.” Kari drew back like she had been slapped. He really didn’t think she could keep it together? It stung, far more deeply than she would ever admit. She heard someone sigh to the right of her.

“I don’t think you have the right to look so insulted, Captain Johannson,” it was the young man speaking, “I’d say that I do, but you don’t.” She whirled around to face him.

“And why would that be?” she asked, voice harsher than she intended it to be. He leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow. He exchanged a look with the girl next to him, and looked at Kari again. He shook his head.

“Yup, I’m offended.” Kari stared at him, but before she could retort, he continued. “Honestly, I thought we were friends. I mean, I’m a good five years younger than you, but my memory is apparently better than yours.” She stared at him, feeling irritation building inside her. She scanned him. He looked like any other Fynknian boy. Taller than her, with messy white-blond hair, fair skin, dark eyes–

His eyes. She paused. She had taken a step towards him while he was speaking to her, and as he was no longer leaning back, she had a far better view of him. His eyes were dark, a rich midnight blue. But, just below the pupil in his left eye, there was a small imperfection. A small crescent of silver which disrupted the dark, inky colour. She had seen it before; he had been born with it, that much she knew. She knew because he’d told her, one afternoon when he had gotten dirt in his eye, and had come running to her to get it out.

Matthew, Elizabeta, Tino, Yao and the girl watched as her expression, one of mild irritation and confusion, melted into shock. Kari never let down her shields, but at that moment, they could see every emotion dancing across her face. Shock, surprise, joy, melancholy, confusion, and, finally, it settled on disbelieving exhilaration. She opened her mouth, made a choking noise, and closed it, her hands flying up to cover it as tears swam in her eyes. She drew her hands away for a moment, staring at his face, which had now lost it’s apathetic mask and was searching her eyes for recognition. Then, finally, Kari spoke.

“…Lukas?” she whispered, not trusting herself to speak any louder. His eyes lit up, and he ducked his head slightly.

“Hello miss.” He murmured.

And her walls broke.

Kari almost knocked him over, she hugged him with so much force. She was aware she was crying, but couldn’t find herself caring. He was alive. Oh, thank every god there was, he was alive!

His arms were around her now, and it almost blew her mind. She knew, realistically, of course, that Lukas would have aged over the years, obviously. But somehow, all of her thoughts of him had held that little, eight-year-old close. A part of her had given in to despair a long time ago, and thought that he was likely dead. That was probably why, she mused, it was such a shock to see him again.

He was taller than her, that she already noticed, but the height difference was greater than she had originally believed; he was probably around three or so inches taller than her, rather than one, as she’d previously believed. The little boy who had made her days at the palace a delight was taller than her. He was….18, yes, 18. His birthday was in early Maii, that she knew. He had grown up. It was this thought which finally allowed her to disentangle herself from him. She put one hand on each of his shoulders, and found herself looking up at his face, which was just as happy (though not as teary) as hers.

“You’re too old,” she chuckled as she wiped her tears away, “I didn’t even recognise you.” Lukas shrugged.

“Well, one does tend to get older over the course of a decade.” She heard the girl behind him – Emilia, it must be – scoff.

“Can you not be sarcastic even when reuniting with old friends?” she asked, voice dripping with sass. Lukas turned to look at her, rolling his eyes.

“I suppose you wouldn’t know.” He retorted. Emilia placed her hand over her heart, an expression of mock hurt on her face.

“Wow. That hurts,” she said, tapping her chest, “that hurts right here.” Lukas raised an eyebrow.

“You mean the empty space?” Emilia gave up, shoving her older brother. Kari laughed, then held her hand out to the girl.

“I don’t think I knew you as well, but I’ll still call you a friend.” Emilia shot a triumphant look at Lukas as she took Kari’s hand.

“Thank you,” she said, “See Lukas? This is how you be _genuine_.” Being the mature future king that he was, Lukas kicked her. Kari almost started sobbing again for the familiarity of the scene. How many times had he come running to her, complaining about something his sister had done? It must have been hundreds. She laughed, wiping at her eyes again. She looked at Yao, who was smiling now. He spread his hands.

“You see my reason now?” he asked. Still chuckling slightly, she nodded. Matthew and Elizabeta looked completely stunned, though whether that was a result of meeting the last remnants of Fynknian royalty, or seeing Kari display something other than vexation, aggressive sarcasm or cynicism, was a mystery. Right now, she didn’t care. Yao observed the scene as Matthew and Liz, now getting over their shock a little, took their turns introducing themselves.

“For obvious reasons,” Yao said, “We need to keep these two an absolute secret from the Union. You must not tell anyone. Not even your closest friends.” He said. “As I already said to Tino, if the Union finds out that we have two of the royals they have spent an entire eleven years hunting down, they will tear apart the galaxy to get to us, and them.” Kari managed to school her emotions into something more sombre at this announcement, and saw Matthew and Elizabeta doing the same.

“Not a word, to anyone, or we get shot,” Matthew nodded, “Understood.” He nodded at Lukas and Emilia, “I promise that if I fail, I’ll _beg_ you two to shoot me.” Lukas tilted his head to the side a little, as if he were considering the offer, though Emilia’s eyes widened. Elizabeta nodded vehemently in agreement as Yao spoke again.

“For now, these two are hiding under the aliases of Lukas and Laila Christensen. You are to refer to them only as such. Not even if you are in private should you use their real names.” They all nodded. “Lukas is currently training with Nelia Domingo, and Laila is currently training with Ali Ghafoor. When the time comes, I may enlist your help in training them in other areas not covered by Nel and Ali.” Matthew looked confused for a moment, but Kari understood immediately. Their gifts. They would need to be proficient in using them. She noted how Yao had referred to Emilia as Laila – clearly a sign that from now on they were to do the same. She nodded.

“Be happy to.” She stated, sending Lukas another small smile, which he returned.

Yao hesitated. “I do hate to do this. To you in particular, Kari, but,” he paused, biting his lip for a moment before he continued, “It is important for you, at least for the next few weeks, to maintain distance between yourself and these two.” He looked apologetic. “I know it’s awful, but–”

“But if I became best friends with a new recruit in the span of a single day it would raise more than a few eyebrows.” She finished, nodding. “I understand. It’s the sensible thing to do, really.” Yao relaxed a little.

“Yes, thank you, Kari.” He swept his eyes over them all one last time, before nodding in satisfaction. “Well, that is all, so I suggest you all get back to your posts. Matthew, I expect you to make sure our new prisoners are treated humanely?” he nodded.

“Yes, Kabeeta checked their injuries earlier, and I’ll make sure they eat regularly.” Yao turned to Elizabeta.

“Aija will be wanting to see you. She was positively distraught after you were kidnapped, and you know how delicate she can be.” Elizabeta straightened up, nodding as a fond smile crossed her face at the mention of Aija. She was young for a rebel, but capable. The girl had many problems with anxiety, low self-esteem and fear, however. Elizabeta had been the one helping her overcome them, and they had an almost sisterly bond. Yao turned to Tino.

“Tino, I know that you promised Kristian an accuracy contest this evening, and” he peered out the gap in the tent, “the sun is starting to set.” Tino grinned at the thought. Yao looked at Lukas and Emilia.

“Lukas, I know Nelia was wanting to show you contortionism.” Lukas blanched at the thought.

“She wants me to learn how to dislocate and relocate all my joints.” He muttered, looking disquieted. Emilia snorted. Yao raised an eyebrow, enforcing his trademark ‘disapproving father’ look.

“And you’ve been put on kitchen duty, Laila.” He said. Now it was Lukas’ turn to laugh, warranting a glare from his sister. She simply retorted “At least my bones are staying in place.” He stopped laughing quickly after that.

“And you, Kari,” Yao paused, “You have to help Kabeeta in the med bay.” Kari just nodded. Helping Kabeeta was something she enjoyed immensely anyway. “I, personally,” Yao said, dusting off his jacket, “have some other work to attend to. So,” he looked at them all, then waved his hands at them, “Shoo, shoo. Get out, you’re clogging up my space.” Kari grinned as they were ushered out by Yao. She exchanged another glance with Lukas, and sent him her warmest smile before shrugging and turning in the direction of the med tents.

It took a great deal of her willpower to not turn around again. The only thing keeping her head forward was the knowledge that, without a doubt, she would be seeing him again this time.

And, after all the time she had spent without him, that was enough.


	19. The Quiet Battles We Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope everyone is enjoying 2018 so far!
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- The rebels have returned to the resistance. Feliks, Tori, Gilbert and Roderich are now their prisoners. Kari has reunited with Lukas, and Matthew and Elizabeta are also aware of his and Emilia's presence.  
> \- The remaining pirates and bounty hunters are planning to get to Nyma to save their friends. First, however, they must go to Rela to find a contact of Roderich's to help them. Arthur is highly wanted there, but has a contact who may help him enter the planet  
> \- Lovino and Feliciano have started to get to know their neighbour Vash a bit more.
> 
> NAMES:  
> Aelia Gabras: Byzantine Empire  
> Jamael Laroussi: Algeria  
> Octavia Papadopoulos: Ancient Greece  
> Ehsan Karimi: Iran  
> Mohammed Hassan: Egypt  
> Zev Batbayaryn: Mongolia 
> 
> It was hard to come up with a name for Mongolia, as many Mongolian people don't really have surnames. So I just adapted a first name to make it a surname. To any Mongolians out there, I hope that's okay!
> 
> Please comment and tell me what you think guys!

_Szwicza District,_  
Bibesti, Rela  
3rd Marrch

Getting to know Vash was a little bit like getting to know a ‘no-go’ area. You had to quickly learn what was acceptable to do and say. Should you make a mistake, you risked paying for it in a big way. Lovino was careful enough that he and Feliciano never discovered what should happen if they did make a mistake. Vash was a perennially calm person; he was controlled and never even raised his voice. But there was a danger around him which Lovino could almost see. It lingered in the shadows in his green eyes, and in the poised, fluid way he moved. It spoke volumes through the bags under his eyes, the weapons he carried concealed on his body – which Lovino was only aware of because of his telekinesis – and was visible with every loud noise from the street below their apartment block that had the blonde’s fingers itching to grab a weapon and silence the noise. Perhaps most notably, it was present in the bloodstains which he couldn’t quite remove from some of his clothes.

When he had first seen Vash wearing a white shirt with a small, reddish-brown stain on the hem, Lovino had simply paused and commented that, should he want to remove bloodstains properly, soap and cold water did the trick. The next time he saw that same shirt on his neighbour’s body, the stains had vanished. Even Feliciano, who didn’t possess Lovino’s same skill at reading people, had guessed that Vash wasn’t a person to be pushed, pressed or rubbed the wrong way. An afternoon spent asking around in Szwicza’s darker, more dangerous corners was all that Lovino had needed to verify that Vash hadn’t been completely honest with them. ‘Information broker and arms dealer’. That was what he had told them he did for a living.

For the most part, it was correct. He certainly did do those things. But they weren’t the brunt of his operations. It had taken a fair amount of pressing, and a good hour or so, to get the answer. He remembered the shifty, almost frightened look that the man telling him had had on his face at the mention of Vash. No information broker or arms dealer would attract so much fear from one person. Perhaps if he was involved in a wider crime syndicate or mob, but Lovino had already determined that Vash wasn’t. It had taken every ounce of sweet-talking that Lovino had in him to dig up the answer.

It wasn’t surprising, but far from ideal. Try as he might to convince them otherwise, Vash Zwingli was an assassin. A skilled one, too, if the rumours were to be believed. It tied up all of the loose ends which Vash had been trailing, in Lovino’s mind. Of course, there was still a plethora of information that he didn’t have and would probably need to continue successfully being acquainted with Vash Zwingli, but for now, he had what he wanted.

Lovino wouldn’t, and couldn’t, have even begun to assume what endgame Vash had in mind for him and Feliciano. There was a chance, certainly, that he was some sort of lonely soul who wanted a friend, but Lovino doubted it. If Vash was anything like him (and he suspected they had a great deal in common), he would rather have remained alone than gone to virtual strangers for companionship. So, their mere friendship was out of the question.

Had he not already established himself as an assassin that left almost no trace, Lovino may have guessed that he wanted some accomplice or friend to help with any disposal of evidence. But before he had met him and gone digging around for information, Lovino never would have suspected he was any sort of hardened killer. Besides, he hadn’t told them he was an assassin anyway. Judging from that, he wouldn’t exactly go around asking for assistance (not that Lovino would necessarily deny him should he ask for it – there were few things Lovino wouldn’t do nowadays). So, definitely not for any help in his profession.

There…were times if Lovino questioned whether or not he had been cautious enough in hiding their appearances. Their hair was the dead giveaway. And it was concealed, yes, but other aspects of Lovino and Feliciano’s appearances still pointed towards Syhvvanian heritage. Their skin was a rich olive tone – common to Syhvva, and seen in a majority of its inhabitants. Thankfully, their cover story of being Jhobrasian tied up this loose end; Jhobrasians had browned skin just like they did. No, really, the most damning part of their appearances, as they currently stood, were their eyes.

Of all the inhabitants of the Free Courts, Syhvvanian people stood out the most. Feliciano’s eyes were a bright, distinct golden colour, like that of saffron, or dirty gold. Lovino’s were even more incriminating, with their rich, intense amber shade. Vash had already shown an immense interest in them after he’d saved him from Sadik, as he remembered all too well. He knew that the blonde was intelligent. It might only be so long before he connected the dots, if he hadn’t done so already.

Now that he was actually acquainted with Vash, Lovino seemed to run into him everywhere. In the lobby, in town when he was buying food, at the markets on the weekend…everywhere. It seemed unbelievable that he hadn’t got to know the assassin earlier. Either Lovino wasn’t as observant of the people around him as he thought he was…or there was something else at play here.

Lovino tended to trust his intuition a lot. It had never really let him down before, so he had faith in his own ability to judge a situation correctly. He knew that there were several reasons why these consistent encounters could potentially be happening. Vash wasn’t someone he’d ever recalled seeing at the markets, or in stores around Szwicza before. Now that he knew his face, Lovino could recall instances in which he’d seen him in gun and weaponry stores, but never really anywhere else. So, the fact that he was showing up in these places that Lovino frequented, well, there was really no doubt about it.

Vash was following him. Lovino didn’t know why, or for how long he had been doing it, but he knew it was happening. And he was almost burning with curiosity over why. He was so caught up in the idea that he was having trouble sleeping. Knowing that you have an assassin as a stalker didn’t really help much either. He hadn’t told Feliciano about it; his brother hadn’t learned to hide his emotions yet, and his naivete was sometimes an invaluable tool. It was better for him to not know.

At least, that was what Lovino told himself when guilt gripped him. Despite knowing each other’s deepest secrets, despite growing up together and taking on the galaxy, despite the trust that existed between them, Lovino seemed doomed to continue lying to his brother.

* * *

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,  
4th Marrch

It had been what? A week? Maybe a little less, since they had arrived here. Feliks was already sick of it. Their cell was not so empty as it had been before; the rebels had given them each a surprisingly comfortable but rather flat mattress to sleep on, and some clean clothes. Their others, which they’d been wearing for almost two weeks, were washed and, unsurprisingly, not returned to them. Feliks supposed he couldn’t really complain. It had been a little awkward the first few days, working out how to live in such close quarters with Roderich, Gilbert and Tori, but once they had figured out the basic protocol for certain things (like politely turning away when Tori was changing, etc), it had become more comfortable. They had, in fact, been checked on by a lovely medic named Kabeeta after Matthew had left them in their cell. Roderich had been cleared with only a concussion, and Feliks had been given painkillers for the healing wounds in his stomach. She had checked on them to get updates on how they were feeling twice since then, and Feliks couldn’t even get mad at her like he could with the other rebels; she was too nice to them.

As time passed, Feliks found himself having difficulty even being truly angry at the rebels. They gave them three square meals a day, fresh water frequently, clean clothes and treated them with basic decency. Feliks had been detained many times before, but this was by far his most pleasant experience. Really, the rebels didn’t have any use for them other than as a money-making scheme. They didn’t need information from them, and they didn’t want revenge for anything, so they were being left alone. A part of Feliks had feared that they may torment them nonetheless, but nothing of the sort happened. There was an armed guard keeping watch, but whoever it was, they almost never spoke, except to ask if they needed water, or food, or anything else. It…was not good, but it certainly wasn’t bad either.

It got almost ridiculously hot during the day. Obviously, being inside, they were spared most of the heat, but it still radiated through the walls, and by the time the sun finally started to set, they felt more like they were inside a sauna than in a cell. Judging by the hot gusts of air that traversed the hallway outside sometimes, they had it pretty good. Feliks doubted that many of the buildings around here had air conditioning. The view outside the prison had been hard to see because the sunlight was causing such a bright glare on the ground, but when the sun started to sink below the horizon, it was easier to tell what sort of area they were in.

Through the distant openings, they could see scorched earth typical of a desert (which they had expected), tents, some groups of people walking by, and parts of the ground. Not much else was visible. They could at least tell, though, that what they had tripped over on their way in were, in fact, tree roots. It had shocked Feliks. Each of the roots looked about as thick as a ventilation pipe – like the type seen in large warehouses – which he assumed was a good indicator as to the size of the tree. They must be dozens of metres tall.

Being locked up was starting to bring back memories for him. It had been years since the first time he’d been put behind bars. He still remembered it well; he’d stolen some food for himself since his own family couldn’t really afford it – and when they could, he got very little anyway – and he’d been caught by a passer-by and arrested. He’d only been about 10 at the time. He’d been let off, thankfully – something in Pyndaph’s criminal code which stated that stealing food for survival was not an indictable offence – but he had paid the price anyway. He’d suffered an inch-deep gash in his right shoulder, courtesy of Melek, which had been severe enough to scar; he still had the mark today.

Since that first time, he had been in and out of detention centres dozens of times. His crimes ranged from stealing to vandalism to even assault occasioning bodily harm. His criminal record followed him from Pyndaph to Reycass, which he moved to aged only 14 after his Aunt Sera was hospitalised there. In Krios, his reputation as a public nuisance and delinquent had only increased, with some law enforcers knowing him by name before he had even been on Reycass for a year.

It had been his last stint in prison, at the ripe age of 15, when his life had finally started looking up. After being released, having served about 7 months for stabbing a predatory jackass who’d taken to stalking him, he had traversed down through the Krios District and immediately began to pickpocket any and all unwary patrons of the area. Matthias, then only 18, had been the only one to notice Feliks’ hands passing through his pockets. Instead of calling for the police, he’d asked the blonde to join him for lunch.

The rest was history, as they had gradually become friends, and started to make a name for themselves in the bounty hunting industry. Gilbert and Louise joined them, having already been frequent work partners of Matthias, as did an initially reluctant Alfred. Francis, fresh out of the mixing pot that South-Eastern Xexei had become, joined them not long after. Antonio approached them rather than the other way around, and had been happily added to their ranks. Berwald had decided to join a life of crime more out of necessity than desire, and had been their most recent addition before Ivan joined them as well over a year ago. They may have been a large group, but their cohesion and teamwork had quickly helped them bond. Feliks was grateful to have all of them as friends. Even if he and Gilbert fought constantly, and Ivan was nothing short of a total creep. Even if Francis’ rants about pirates got on his nerves and Berwald barely spoke to him. They were his friends.

If they didn’t come to help them, Feliks swore that he would break himself out and kill them all. Hell, they even had a notoriously wealthy pirate with them who could pay for the bounty that the Resistance had decided on for them. Apparently, it had initially been around 30,000 marks for each of them, amounting to a pretty sum of 120,000 marks in total. If rumours were to be believed, it was the bargaining on the behalf of Alfred’s freaky doppelganger (and likely brother) Matthew which had helped lower their going rate. Now, their friends would only be busting out 25,000 for each of them. Not much of a difference, but it would save them a good 20,000 marks.

He turned his head to the side. The four of them were all sitting on the floor of the cell, not really having much else to do. Of the four of them, Tori seemed to be taking their imprisonment the worst. She’d lived her whole life free. Yes, it might have been on Aralos, but it was still freedom. She had never had to be confined before, save for maybe when she left Daerna, and for the first few days, it had really gotten to her. She had calmed down a lot since then, and was tolerating their conditions, albeit unhappily, but it was far better than the first few days had been. She had done so much yelling, frowning, near-crying and pacing that Feliks had almost tried to give himself a concussion like Roderich. He had tried to be sympathetic, but she had just turned her impressive lungs on him, and he’d quickly aborted that course of action.

He had no idea if their friends would come for them, and he had no idea if the rebels would even release them if they did. Matthew, who had come back to speak with them about it, and had seemed uncomfortable when they’d started asking too many questions about their bail, and getting released. It was clear that there was some sort of disagreement going on between the high-ranking officers in the Resistance, and their subordinate soldiers who had captured them in the first place.

He could only hope that the half-decent rebels they’d met like Matthew managed to push through.

* * *

If murder was legal, Matthew swore he would have committed it already. Killing someone on the battlefield wasn’t the same; that he’d done in plenty. No, he was talking about pulling a gun from his belt and shooting someone in the face because they were annoying him.

Unfortunately for him, the person who was currently being so difficult was Vice-General Octavia Papadopoulos, which made his thoughts of bloody murder more than a little mutinous in nature. Before he’d been promoted to the position of Captain, he hadn’t understood Yao’s seemingly endless quarrels with her and Vice-Generals Laroussi, Gabras and Karimi. The Yanishman had constantly been frustrated with them, and muttered fairly unflattering things under his breath frequently. Matthew, as an outsider in that regard, had thought that they didn’t seem so bad.

Now, however, had Yao proposed they kill them all, Matthew would have happily volunteered.

He understood, of course, that Octavia Papadopoulos was of Daernic heritage. He understood that she likely knew many people whose lives had been ruined or freedom stolen by pirates and bounty hunters. That didn’t mean that what she was proposing to do with their current captives was in any way acceptable.

“It would teach them a lesson!” she declared, eyes narrowed. Of those who were currently present, Matthew could see several distinct groups. They were present in every discussion, debate and meeting the resistance had. In a sense, though every rebel had the same goal; fuck the Union up as much as physically possible; they held different loyalties.

First, there were those who nodded and murmured in agreement with everything that Papadopoulos said. They were the ones she had won over long before this conversation had even started, the ones who voted in her favour in all decisions, and made Yao’s job so much harder. They were the ones who, like her, disliked that Yao led their movement. They were, like Vice-General Papadopoulos, completely idiotic, self-serving bastards. Of course, Papadopoulos was invested and loyal to the Resistance, but she was always trying to further her own agenda within it. This group of people were the ones helping her do such a thing. Sadly, for people like Matthew, who held faith with Yao, their numbers were slowly but surely increasing.

Secondly, there were those who stood on the neutral ground. Those who were devoted purely to their cause, and refrained from taking sides between their leader and any potential challengers. These rebels voted with their own morals, ideas and goals in mind, and currently, were the only thing stopping Papadopoulos from overpowering Yao’s influence.

Thirdly, there were rebels like Matthew, who sided with Yao’s viewpoint on the war and liked to take a more rational, and less passionate route. As Yao often said, “Acting out in passion or anger destroys our sense of control and calm.” Papadopoulos had a severe agenda against anything that was remotely reminiscent of the Union, whereas Yao, having previously lived under its influence, could understand the multi-layered and complex organisation and industry that it was. There was a clear distinction between the two. Yao took the time to understand their enemy, and so could formulate plans and ideas that not only deconstructed plans they were carrying out now, but also those that they were planning to carry out in the future. Papadopoulos acted out in passion and didn’t think plans through. She approved any mission which would be detrimental to the Union, failing to consider the potential loss of life which it could result in.

Matthew hated the Union too, of course he did, but it wasn’t some black and white battle they were fighting. There were good people in the resistance, and good ones in the Union, just as there were bad people both among the Union and the rebels themselves. Papadopoulos had never liked Yao, not from the second he’d arrived, according to the man himself. But with a spy among their ranks, a dangerous secret to keep and distrust everywhere, Matthew could see that they were reaching a tipping point.

He had to stifle a groan as he saw the dark-haired figure who had just entered their command tent. Major Zev Batbayaryn was a good speaker, and was always, without fail, on Octavia’s side. He seemed to be almost as desperate for a promotion and change of rank as Papadopoulos was, and if the Vice-General ended up getting her way, he would likely receive one. Matthew had never been fond of him. He was from the Kyrs System, just like Yao, but because he was from Nocza, which had stood against the Union until the day they were annexed, he wasn’t treated with the same, blatant racism and disrespect as Yao. He was Papadopoulos’ favourite subordinate, something which he knew, and made sure everyone else knew. The fact that he was here, obviously to support her views, was as disquieting as ever.

Especially considering what her views were. Matthew was no angel, and didn’t consider himself innocent or pure by any standards, but what she was suggesting was just evil.

As it stood, the decision which had been made concerning their captives was that a bail be set for them, and their friends given the opportunity to pay to free them, with no consequences. They were to be treated humanely until their friends made a move to retrieve them. It was a good conclusion, which left both parties happy. The pirates had their friends back, and the rebels would be a good 100,000 marks richer. However, as it was a proposition made by Yao, Papadopoulos felt the need to call a debate over the issue, which was why they were all here now.

It was Papadopoulos’ opinion that, in order to discourage Kirkland’s band of pirates and their bounty hunter friends from interacting with the resistance again, they should torture their captives in order to get more money out of the criminals, and then kill them regardless.

It was beyond horrifying. Even from the standpoint of a total newcomer to the situation, the idea sounded vicious and twisted. Having spent time with the four they’d captured, fought alongside them…well, Matthew just didn’t have it in him to do such a thing, or even let it happen. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to. Sure, he wasn’t all buddy-buddy with any of them, but after going so far on Galee to _save_ their lives, Matthew knew he would never be able to contribute to then ending them. Papadopoulos’ idea was based off the savage rage that filled her from a fellow Daernic rebel being kidnapped and imprisoned. It didn’t matter that Elizabeta hadn’t really been harmed by the pirates, and that Matthew and the others had freed her anyway. Octavia was too far gone in her investment in this whole situation. Honestly, Matthew thought it was ridiculous. She hadn’t even _seen_ their prisoners, yet she was willing to condemn them to death. This, in Matthew’s mind, was why Yao had been elected leader of the Resistance when Arshad Teymouri died, _not_ her. Looking around the room, Matthew felt his stomach sinking. Octavia seemed to have gathered as many of her allies here as possible. Thankfully, debates weren’t always settled by numbers alone, and rather by who made the safer and more sensible point, and had the best speakers on their side. Even if there was only one, there was always a supporter of Yao’s present.

In this case, it was General Mohammed Hassan, who was probably the closest to a second-in-command that Yao had. He didn’t agree with Yao all the time, but he agreed with Octavia Papadopoulos far, far less. Now was not an anomaly.

Octavia had just wrapped up her reasoning, assisted by Major Batbayaryn. She turned to Hassan, who was watching her with interest.

“I feel confident in saying that I am making the correct move here.” She said, expression smug. Hassan blinked.

“No. But I thank you for your input nonetheless.” He stood, ignoring the shocked, vilified expression on Octavia’s face and faced the rest of those assembled. Matthew had to try hard to suppress his smile. Hassan was as blunt as ever. That, at least, had not changed in his month-long absence. He drew himself from his thoughts as the General continued to speak.

“I will say this only once. The decision we made before still stands. I understand the opinions behind each viewpoint, but I must stress, we are not murderers. The day that we submit to the more morbid and depraved urges which seize us, that is the day that we become no better than the Union. This debate is concluded.” With his simple but strong words, he turned and walked from the tent. Murmuring, some disgruntled, some not, filled the command tent as the rest of the assembly began to vacate the room. Papadopoulos swept out, frustration and annoyance etched deep into the lines of her face. Nodding a little in frustration, Matthew turned to leave, only to just miss colliding with Zev Batbayaryn.

Matthew blinked. He wasn’t entirely certain when the Major had ended up on this side of the room, and he frowned when they made eye contact.

“Captain Williams-Jones,” Batbayaryn said, nodding to him. He hesitated a moment before nodding back.

“Major Batbayaryn.” The Noczan man waved a hand.

“Just Zev is fine,” he said, “all of these titles and ranks can get tiring, can’t they?” Matthew had to lock up the muscles in his forehead to stop himself from raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes, I suppose,” he said falteringly, “I should be getting to the prison block, to check on our captives, though.” Zev took his arm as he moved to walk past him.

“They aren’t running off anywhere,” he said coolly, “and it is rude to ignore your superiors, is it not?” Matthew bristled internally, but forced his face to remain a mask of calm, smiled, and nodded.

“You make a good point. I apologise.” Batbayaryn shrugged.

“I will not take up too much of your time, Captain. I understand that you are one of General Yao’s favoured subordinates. I suppose that would result in a deal of work for you, yes?” Matthew simply nodded. Batbayaryn bit his lip, looked around and ducked his head towards Matthew a little.

“This movement is becoming divided, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he said, eyes sorrowful and face strained, “The differences between General Yao and his potential competitors are becoming more pronounced every day. I may align more with Vice-General Papadopoulos’ ideals, but I am still loyal to the General and this cause.” He sighed. “I don’t want to see this resistance fail and be crushed, as it almost was before Yao took over. Arshad Teymouri was a fine leader, any fool can recognise that, but the divides between him and his most trusted fellows created division and dissent.” Matthew nodded, looking at Zev with more interest now.

“I recall.” He murmured, “I arrived at the Resistance during his time as leader. His associates always were arguing with him and contradicting him.” Zev nodded.

“I know that your views are in line with General Yao’s, and mine are more so with Vice-General Papadopoulos, but I hope that we can still respect each other on a basic level.” Matthew nodded.

“Of course,” he said, and meant it. No matter their differences, Matthew could still deeply respect Major Batbayaryn. He was an excellent warrior and strategist, and deserved the recognition he had received. The Major smiled, looking a little more relaxed.

“Division will be what drives this resistance apart,” he murmured, “I don’t think even Octavia or Yao realise how divided they are.” He broke off and shook his head. “Sorry, I just…I worry. There are rumours going around right now and, I just don’t want another repeat of Apollomina.”

Matthew had to agree there. Their last base had been on Apollomina, but it had been discovered by the Union. He still remembered the scene of carnage. He’d only been about 13 at the time, and the event had viciously torn any remnants of innocence from him. Not long after they’d made a deal with the Coysash people and resettled here, he’d marched up to Laarni Orante, one of the fiercest fighters in the rebellion, and demanded that she teach him to fight.

“Me neither,” he said quietly, “but how are we supposed to stop this detachment from happening?”

Zev smiled sadly, and shrugged.

“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

* * *

Nyma was beautiful at night. That, Yao would never try to deny. The sun had finally sunk completely beneath the horizon, though vibrant strokes of red and purple still danced across the sky. He’d spent some time watching it from just inside his tent, before he pulled the flaps shut to stop anyone from seeing inside. This time, while the last of the sun’s rays followed their source across to the other side of the planet, but before any nightly duties were impending, it was the only time he really had to himself. About an hour or so before he stopped by the mess hall to collect food to eat on the go, and went on to check up on other missions that were ongoing. Then it would be to the command tents to help guide solo operatives while everyone else slept, checking the security measures they had in place, as he did every fortnight, and to perform other duties.

If he was lucky, he would get maybe three hours of sleep before being woken once more at dawn to continue. His duty was extensive, and its scale was often unknown to his many subordinates. The leader of the resistance was essential. He had to be there. He had to be the constant who was on hand for advice or help at all times. To vanish and take care of himself felt selfish, especially given the immense responsibility which these people had trusted him with six years ago. Even the Vice-Generals who so disliked his leadership came to him for help at all hours. And he had to be there, even for them (which never ceased to surprise him, as he was younger than most of them were, not that they knew that).

But this hour, this one hour, he had to himself. The moment he tied the flaps of his tent shut, he was in his own domain. Here, he sagged with relief, before removing his high-necked jacket and pulling off his gloves.

In the company of others, he tended to put their comfort above his own. He knew what reactions his body garnered from others. Exposing his hands was out of the question, and had been since the day he was rescued. But people had also taken note of how he wore clothes which completely covered his arms, chest, neck, feet and legs as well. Really, the only part of his body which other rebels had seen was his head. His time on the Arbiter had left more than just his hands horrifically disfigured. His arms were strewn with scars, burns and small patches of discoloured skin where toxic substances had been injected into his body. His chest had similar markings. His back was twisted and uneven from the marks which his torturer’s favoured whip had left on him.

At the base of his throat were savage, twisting scars which left most who saw them wondering how he could still speak. They did not have the surgical precision of the others. These were jagged, and stretched cruelly along his neck and upper collarbones as if something had torn his skin open from the inside out. His feet lacked nails, as his hands did, and bore the scars of patch-marking (that is, the process of marking the skin into sections before flaying is performed, to ease the process).

And his hands, of course, remained almost as horrible to see as the day they’d first been skinned. They were a dark, vile red-brown in colour. The bones were visible sharply – yellow-white lines cutting through the darker, toughened muscle. Ragged, dark pits existed where his fingernails should have been, and his veins were clear to see. Kabeeta had worked for weeks to rearrange how they lay across his hand, and sewn them into the garish, toughened muscle. The same, she had carefully done for his tendons (also visible). The gloves, he wore for two reasons; the first was to be considerate of others, who definitely would not want to look upon such nauseating things. The second was for protection. Kabeeta had done her work well, but he didn’t want to push his luck: he was lucky that he was still able to use his hands at all.

He approached the shallow stone basin that sat on top of his dresser-drawer, and began to carefully wash his hands in the water within. After being safely concealed inside his gloves all day, it felt good to have the cool water on them. It wasn’t as though he didn’t get hot, wearing his full uniform; quite the contrary, he always did. But bearing with the immense heat was preferable to the pitying looks, sickened glances and questions which would follow him otherwise. He dried his hands, mind lingering on the week’s events.

He and Vice-General Papadopoulos had always been at odds with one another, but the arrival of the captives which Matthew and the others had obtained on their mission had upset the balance even more than usual. Matthew had told him what Major Batbayaryn had said to him. He agreed with the Major. This situation was quickly becoming mutinous, and they couldn’t allow the Union to take advantage of any of their weaknesses. They already had a spy within their ranks.

Yao had dedicated a decade of his life to the resistance, and for six of those years, he had been its leader. He just hoped that he wasn’t its last.

* * *

_Onboard the ISS Marauder,_  
In Orbit, The Falloweil System,  
4th Marrch

They weren’t far from Rela. Arthur knew that much. With every minute that passed, his anxiety about the whole mission grew and grew. He had no idea if he would even help him. There was every possibility that security would be called and he would finally be brought to justice for his many crimes. Perhaps he’d get a reduced sentence, out of pity. He hated the idea. he wasn’t weak, never had been, and never would be, but everyone who really knew him saw him as such.

A glimmering light in the distance caught his eye. It was stationary, so definitely not a ship, but it was too large to be a star. Curious, he drew up the system’s map on the ship’s console. The Falloweil Solar System only had six planets. His eyes skimmed across the text and he hummed in interest. It was Syhvva. Unsurprising.

Syhvva, Daerna, Fynkn, Rela, Markiriit and Ellmin. The only planets in the whole system. The first three were the most famous of the lot, of course, being the infamous Free Courts. Markiriit flew under the radar pretty frequently, so not much notice was ever paid to it. Ellmin was Natalya’s home planet, and her half-brother Ivan’s too. Maybe, if they lived long enough, he’d give them the chance to take a visit. He knew that they had an older sister who still lived there.

He became aware of the fact that he was digging his nails into his own palms. He exhaled slowly, uncurling his fists slowly and wiping the blood on his hands on his dark pants, uncaring of smears. His head throbbed, and he felt dizzy, even just standing still. Damn it, he needed this mission to be over soon. He needed to get Roderich back as quickly as possible so he could get back to Reycass. He only had a few weeks’ worth of his supply left…

He rubbed the insides of his elbows, which were stinging as they always did when he thought about it. Telling himself to just ignore the issue never helped. It had been part of his life for almost five years now. It was a part of him, as much as his green eyes or his resting bitch face. His musings were interrupted by the low swishing noise of the door opening. He turned, surprised when he saw Francis. The blonde hesitated, looking like he very much so wanted to walk right out the door again. He seemed to decide that not even Arthur’s presence was worth ignoring whatever he had come here for, and continued moving forward.

Stargazing was apparently what he had walked all the way from his quarters to do. Francis stopped near the glass panels, staring out intently. He too frowned at the bright smudge on the horizon which had captured Arthur’s attention.

“What is that?” he asked quietly, nearly giving Arthur a heart attack. Of all the things he had expected from Francis, a simple, inoffensive question was not one of them. It reminded him of what things had been like back when they first met. He shoved down the wall of sorrow which rose up inside him at the thought, and croaked out a response.

“Syhvva, according to the console.” Francis drew away from the window a little, nodding. He could feel the bounty hunter’s gaze on him, but Arthur kept his eyes firmly forward. “You’re worried,” Francis muttered.

“What makes you think that?” he asked tersely. Even though he couldn’t see him, he could tell that the other was raising an eyebrow. He felt warm hands on his left arm, uncurling his hand, which had managed to tighten into a fist again. More blood was flowing from the small, crescent-shaped cuts in his hand. He snatched his hand away, scowling.

“Do you think that your contact in Loszok will help get you through the checkpoints?” Francis inquired. Arthur shrugged.

“Well, this ship won’t get recognised like the _Mutiny_ would, so we’ll pass the preliminary security checks. It’s only when we get to the facial checkpoints that I’m concerned about.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “On Rela, they have employees match the entrant’s face to those of wanted criminals. If my contact doesn’t help, I’ll get thrown straight into a holding cell before being sent to the Galactic Criminal Court.” He winced. “Not somewhere I want to go.”

Francis nodded “Now that is a sentiment of yours I agree with.” There was a moment of silence before Francis checked their course map. He folded his arms. “We should arrive tomorrow.” He said. “As useless and vile as you are, we can’t afford to have you tripping the rest of us up at the checkpoints because you’re exhausted and rambling.”

He knew what Francis was urging him to do, though it was veiled through an insult or two. It seemed that Alfred wasn’t the only one who thought he was some pitiful insomniac. Arthur rolled his eyes, but complied, turning his back on the ever-growing golden blur that was a planet locked in chains.

_If I’m not careful_ , he thought, _Syhvva won’t be the only thing in this system under Union control._


	20. The Thoughts We Keep To Ourselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings! I am back after a short vacation. I can barely believe we're already at chapter 20 of this random shit. I'm kinda proud of myself. I will hopefully update again soon, though I must say, I would be motivated by more comments...  
> Now please don't go on calling me spoiled (I already know that I am) but it is true that I spend a great deal of time planning, writing and editing every chapter. I already feel very appreciated by you guys, but getting feedback on my work is one of the best parts of my day. That's also why I vastly prefer AO3 to other websites; you guys are a lot more vocal, and give a lot more feedback. So please, if you have the time, or just anything to say, please say it!
> 
> Moving on, I should warn you guys that my updates will become more infrequent in the next few weeks as I return to education (yay). I will have more responsibilities, so this may not always be a priority
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- The bounty hunters and pirates are travelling to Rela to find a contact of Roderich's who can potentially help them get their friends back. Getting onto the planet will be difficult, but Arthur has a contact who may help him get inside.  
> \- Lukas and Emilia are with the resistance. Kari, Elizabeta and Matthew are now also aware of their presence. Lukas is being trained by a Jhobrasian fighter named Nelia (Peru)  
> \- Feliks, Tori, Gilbert and Roderich are prisoners of the rebels, and a bail has been set for their release  
> \- Lovino and Feliciano remain in Bibesti, where they have started to get to know their neighbour/assassin Vash
> 
> For any American readers, 200,000 square kilometres = 77,220 square miles, which is roughly the size of the state of Nebraska, just for scale.
> 
> Concerning one of the things Francis says, I am a middle child too, lol

_Onboard the ISS Marauder,_  
Entrant Checkpoints, Rela,  
5th Marrch

Matthias sternly kept his mouth shut as the automated voice filtered through their communication links. They had just come within reach of Rela’s short-range broadcasting services. The message they were all listening to was no doubt being heard by every other ship trying to enter the planet.

“ _Good day, traveller. Your vessel has just entered Rela’s area of orbit. If you wish to enter Rela, proceed forwards to the preliminary checkpoints. If you do not wish to enter Rela, please make checkpoint staff aware of this, and you may be issued with a permit to remain in orbit. Thank you for your cooperation._ ” The voice cut off at this. Matthias exchanged a look with Antonio, who was currently piloting the ship.

“Take it easy,” he advised, “We aren’t familiar with Rela’s entry customs.” Antonio nodded, before beginning to adjust levers and switches on the ship’s console, before nudging it towards the massive checkpoint area. They had to slot themselves in line behind a large freighter; evidently a cargo ship of some kind.

Rela was visible below them, a myriad of greens, amber and grey covering it’s surface. The view was a little fuzzy, however. In the past seven years, after continual raids by criminal warships, and travellers entering the atmosphere during severe storms, the whole planet had been put under lock; a massive forcefield spread across the whole planet. It wasn’t strong enough to keep ships out, but it was connected to very powerful sensors. Within seconds of breaching it, you’d have security forces on your ass, arresting you for violating Rela’s ingression laws. They had all agreed that, as skilled as Antonio was as a pilot, and as magnificent a ship as the _Marauder_ was, they’d be far better off going in the legal way (for once).

The preliminary checkpoint was a massive structure in the shape of a rough circle. It held the only hole in Rela’s forcefield, but due to the numbers of security here, anyone who tried to go through without being cleared would be shot out of the sky. So, they just had to wait. They’d all rifled through their belongings to find the most mundane, civilian clothes that they owned. Matthias couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t worn something made of black leather. Even his favourite boots hadn’t passed their rigorous inspection, and had instead been replaced with worn brown lace-up boots. Matthias personally wasn’t very fond of the change. Francis looked downright weird, wearing dulled colours, rather than the brighter clothes he wore more often.

Of all of them, however, it was Arthur who seemed to look the most different. He was wearing dark pants that came about ¾ down his legs, a long-sleeved white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just under his elbows, a pair of brown suspenders, worn boots like Matthias’ with the top flaps hanging open carelessly, and a ragged brown wool scarf thrown around his neck – the kind used by people in urban areas like Loszok to protect from pollution and the other unpleasantries which came from low socio-economic areas. His hair looked a little windswept, and honestly, had Matthias not seen him wearing nicer clothes before, he would have assumed he was just another Rela native. He slid into the working-class look so well that Matthias wondered if the pirate had always been as wealthy as he was now. Some of Arthur’s crew, like Leon and Mei, were clearly from poorer backgrounds, but Kirkland was such a mystery. Matthias didn’t even know where he was from. Judging by his fair skin, blonde hair and green eyes, he would guess Pyndaph like Feliks, but his accent was well-off.

He shook his head. It wasn’t like he had gone and shared deep secrets with the captain. Kirkland had the right to his privacy. Matthias surveyed the others, to make sure that they were abiding by the dress code as well. Louise seemed to be trying to rearrange her short hair into something less conspicuous. After a moment or two of struggling, she seemingly gave up, scooping up a lumpy woollen cap to cover her head. Matthias had to conceal a snicker at that. Louise wasn’t used to caring much about her appearance. Gilbert hadn’t raised her to do so.

Thinking of his missing team member pulled the smile from Matthias’ face quickly. He needed to stay on task. Their whole mission to rescue their friends could come apart if they did something wrong at these checkpoints.

Their ship, which had been drifting along slowly, shuddered to a stop, pulling him from his thoughts. Looking out the front screen, he could see that they had reached the preliminary checkpoint. He knew that their ship was being examined and scanned for potentially dangerous substances. A request to open a video link popped on the screen and, after dusting himself down, Antonio answered it. A stern-faced woman – a security overseer judging by the uniform – appeared. She cleared her throat.

“Good Morning.” She said curtly. Antonio smiled, returning the greeting. She observed some screen out of view of the camera, before turning to face Antonio again.

“You are wishing to enter Rela?” she asked. Antonio nodded.

“Yes, we are ma’am.” She nodded.

“And you have how many passengers on board?” Relusian scanners had already gone over their ship, so there was no point in lying. Antonio thought for a moment, counting them up.

“Um, thirteen, I believe.” The woman nodded again.

“I see. And what is the purpose of your visit to Rela?” Antonio relaxed a little, giving her a dazzling smile.

“Just a few things here and there. Conducting some business and meeting up with some old friends. Nothing much.” She nodded again.

“And how long do you believe you will be on Rela? Be aware that if you expect to be on-world for more than three months, then you are required to lodge an application for a visitation or intention of residency visa.” Antonio laughed lightly, waving off her question.

“Only a few days, ma’am.” She nodded.

“I am obliged to warn you that the South-Eastern cities have suffered a hit from seasonal storms in the past few weeks. Some services may be unavailable.” Antonio nodded.

“I see. We are going to be spending time mostly in Loszok. Has it been badly affected?”

“It was one of the first cities to be hit by the storms, but it has a very effective relief system. Most services should have been restored. The same goes for Bibesti and Kramis. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Fordanask. There is still heavy flooding, I believe.” Antonio nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, sounding sympathetic, “We’ll try to navigate around it.” She nodded, clearly disinterested.

“Well, you’ve been cleared for entry. You can make your way on to the Loszok entry point.”

Antonio nodded again. “Thank you.” She waved dismissively, and the connection cut off. Matthias gave a happy whoop.

“First checkpoint down!” he clapped Antonio on the shoulder as he maneuvered the ship towards where the Loszok checkpoint was indicated. Antonio grinned.

“Don’t forget, the preliminary checkpoint is the easy part,” Arthur warned, frown creasing his brow, “we still have to get through security.”

Francis slid into the seat next to Antonio as their ship began to descend into Rela’s atmosphere. As they grew closer, Loszok became visible. It was a massive city, spanning about 200,000 square kilometres. It’s many towering buildings were easily visible the lower they got, but hovering drones directed them towards the port where they would keep their ship until they left the city.

They landed in one of the empty bays, and slowly disembarked. Francis had to shout at Antonio to hurry up after he started to quadruple check that all of their security measures were in place. The Jhobrasian jumped, smiled sheepishly, and darted after them.

* * *

Security at on-world ports like this one reminded Francis a lot of airports. Even though airports were only used for on-world destinations, and spaceports like this were used for interplanetary travel, they were similar in appearance. At least, the security sectors were. The room they were in was massive, and brimming with people, all holding passes and official papers which would stop the workers at the checkpoints from immediately having them sent off-world. All of their own group had their passports. Francis’ was newer than most of the others’ ones, but he didn’t mind. He always kept his clean; as a sign of respect for how hard it had been to get it in the first place. The others had initially teased him for it, but quickly given up and just accepted it as one of his quirks.

A part of Francis had been tempted to try and snatch Kirkland’s after the pirate had first pulled his from his pocket. Some of his curiosity about Kirkland could have been dispelled if he had, but he knew creating a scene like that wasn’t worth the payoff. One of the things which baffled law enforcement the most about Arthur John Kirkland was his name. From the get-go, the pirate had happily spread his name around. Most had believed him a naïve fool for doing so, but his own genius had been discovered later.

Simply; Arthur John Kirkland didn’t exist. There was not a single entry in the Index which matched that name. Though Francis doubted that his first name was falsified – he had used it since the two of them had met on Xexei, before he was a pirate – the second and family name were definitely fake. And the first name didn’t help much; Arthur was one of the most common names on Pyndaph, Rywan and Incanda, which were coincidentally the three ethnicities which the pirate matched up with the most. His real name eluded the authorities entirely, and only made it harder to catch him. Even though they did have photos of him, he looked nothing right now like he did in any of them, dressed in such humble clothing. If anything, Kirkland was the safest one here.

Despite these facts, the blonde looked like he was about to be sick. The pirate had craned his neck up to observe the checkpoint workers, before drifting into the lane about three down from Francis and the rest of them. Evidently, the ‘person who might help him but also might not’ was working that lane of people. Francis was keeping his eye on the pirate as he moved forwards in the line. If the pirate was going to get arrested, he might as well watch and enjoy it.

His attention was drawn forwards; he had reached the front of the line, and was being beckoned forward by an incredibly bored-looking woman behind a desk. He quickly shot out a greeting (accompanied by a flirty smile) and handed her his papers, eyes quickly flying back in Kirkland’s direction. He was nearing the front of the line.

The woman serving Francis clearly was bored of her job (even though it wasn’t even noon yet on Rela) and waved him through without even checking all of his papers. Wow, Natalya was right, Loszok really did have less strict security parameters. Once he had moved past the desk, he paused, moving down the room a little, so he was closer to Kirkland’s lane. He leaned on a railing casually, clearly waiting for friends. His eyes went back to the pirate. The worker at the station seemed a little shocked when Kirkland made it to the front of the line, eyes widening and mouth slackening a little. Hopefully, that was not the expression of someone about to call security.

It evidently wasn’t, as the worker – who Francis could now see was a young man in perhaps his late twenties, with slightly curly brown hair – accepted Kirkland’s papers, scanned them through and said something to the blonde before waving him on. With the conversation clearly over, Kirkland moved through, not so much as glaring in response when Francis raised an eyebrow inquisitively. He didn’t even pause, marching forward, looking deep in thought.

They met with Alfred, Louise and Matthias – the only ones who had managed to get through already – in the foyer, and began to wait for the others to join them. They had only been waiting for about 15 minutes – in which time Leon, Yael and Antonio had joined them – when a bell overhead rang, obviously signalling something to the employees of the spaceport. Arthur stiffened, and Francis looked at him with interest. Now he glared at him.

“It just signals the changing of workers on the clearance stations.” He said. Looking past Francis, Kirkland straightened up when he saw Ivan, Berwald, Mei, Eduard and Natalya approaching them. The others also began to check their belongings, and they started to depart the spaceport. Before they could go more than a few metres, however, Arthur jerked backwards. Turning around, Francis saw that he had been grabbed by the arm.

By none other than the worker who, until ten seconds ago, had been on one of the clearance stations.

“Not so fast.” the man said to Kirkland. The rest of their group stopped, turning and blinking in surprise when they saw the man there. Anxiety crawled up Francis’ throat. Had this contact of Kirkland’s decided to not let them enter Rela after all? Were security forces bearing down on them even as they stood there?

But within a moment, it became clear that the man was only interested in Kirkland. He released his arm, and crossed his own, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought I asked you to wait. You seem to be doing the opposite.” He said bluntly, staring at Kirkland in an accusatory manner. To Francis’ immense shock, Arthur actually seemed to look a little guilty, shifting his feet and looking away from the young man.

“I just have places to be is all. I didn’t realise that you would get off your shift so soon.” The brown-haired man sighed, running a hand over his head, messing up his curls even more.

“O’ course you didn’t.” he murmured, looking almost sorrowfully at Arthur. He sighed. “I know if I ask you questions you’ll just go runnin’ off again, so I won’t be that stupid.” He sent Arthur a level gaze. “Honestly, I’m surprised that you’re still alive.”

Arthur scoffed. “Law enforcement can’t kill me that easy.” The man just quirked an eyebrow.

“You know that’s not what I was talkin’ about.” He said, surprisingly softly. Arthur set his jaw, staring hard at the ground.

“If the best trained fighters in the Galaxy can’t kill me, Colin, what makes you think anything else will?”

The man stared at him for a moment, before shrugging. “I s’pose you’re right.” The man (Colin, was it?) sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “Now, I know you’re wondering but would never ask, so I’ll be considerate enough to tell ya.” He smiled, almost bittersweetly, before continuing. “Niamh is well. Eirinn jus’ turned 4. She’s started to hurl my own swear words at me.” He shook his head a little. “Adorable little shit.” Arthur just nodded.

Francis abruptly realised that these two knew each other well. This man, Colin, he wasn’t just some acquaintance of a mission long past. He and Arthur…they were close. However, before he could make any move to pull the others away and let these two have their conversation more privately, Colin seemed to end it.

He pulled a wool cap, much like the one Louise was wearing, from his pocket, and tossed it to him before pulling a small sheet of paper from his pocket, scrawling something on it, and handing it to him as well.

“If you want to see ‘em again,” he mumbled by way of explanation as Arthur accepted the paper, “The cap’ll help you blend in with the street folk a little more, if you were worried about that.” Colin put his hands in his pockets again. “And…good luck with whatever it is that you’re here for.” Without another word, Colin nodded to him and breezed on past, walking out of the doors into the sun-drenched streets beyond.

Arthur seemed frozen for a moment before he stowed the paper in his pocket, and pulled the cap over his head. That, Colin was right about. Arthur was immediately transformed into a Relusian working-class native. He scowled at the lot of them, before taking off to leave the spaceport. They were all frozen for a moment, before they darted after him.

“Wait!” Alfred called out as he drew level with the pirate, long legs helping him, “Who was that guy?” Arthur grunted in response. Still, Alfred continued to press him.

“Is he like a friend of yours?” The 20-year-old continued his questioning as they made their way onto the street. Arthur shot him a glare.

“Why does it concern you?” he snapped.

“I’m just curious!” Alfred exclaimed. All of a sudden, the earnest expression on his face dropped away, replaced by something that almost looked…sad, and disappointed, like a kicked puppy. “Is he…like…your boyfriend or something?” Arthur stared at him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? No, he’s not my boyfriend. Not that it would be any of your business if he was.”

“Oh okay.” Alfred said, looking rather more relieved and happy than he should. “But then…how do you know him?” Arthur huffed, pulling to a complete halt. Alfred had been following him so closely that he just avoided slamming right into him. The pirate spun around, glaring at the cheerful bounty hunter, as well as the rest of them – who were listening in intently.

“For fucks’ sake. Colin is my brother, so you can stop whining over it.” Without further comment on it, he continued walking. However, his announcement only fuelled their curiosity more, and not just Alfred’s. Francis saw Natalya frown.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” She commented. Arthur sighed.

“Well, I do. Three, in fact.” Francis raised an eyebrow at this.

“Oh? Even _I_ didn’t know _that_.” Arthur glared at him as he continued. “So, are you the oldest? Youngest? Which one?” he could almost hear Arthur rolling his eyes when he asked, but he couldn’t find himself caring. He had just finally learned something about Arthur Kirkland, which was a rare event in itself.

“Youngest.”

“Really? Hmm, I thought it was middle children who were supposed to be the bitchy, attention-starved ones.”

And, for that comment, Francis also learned that the pirate had no qualms about slapping people in crowded streets.

* * *

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,  
6th Marrch

Lukas groaned as Nelia shoved at his shoulder, pain lancing up the joint. He’d been enduring this hell that she called training for about a week now, and he could say that he could dislocate all of his joints now. Sadly, he was less than proficient at relocating them, hence the current situation.

He had asked her endless questions about why it was important, and after a good lecture, he knew not to complain about it again, but he couldn’t help it. This training was important, yes, because it could help him contort his body to free himself if he was handcuffed or otherwise restrained, and he could keep fighting even with a dislocated joint. But it hurt so much. If they were doing this perhaps once a week, he would have gone willingly, and even happily. But they were doing it every day; so frequently that his joints didn’t have the chance to stop aching before he was going through the wringer again. Nelia was a good instructor, and very patient, but that didn’t mean that the exercises became any more pleasant.

And she had told him that he was surprisingly flexible and dexterous compared to others of his age and body type. He winced just thinking about how awful this training was on _them_.

With a flinch-inducing pop, his shoulder slid back into place, the stinging pains around it finally beginning to subside. Nelia frowned a little, rubbing the area comfortingly.

“How about we call it quits for today?” she said, smiling gently.

“What? No, I’m fine, honestly.” They had only started two hours ago, and, considering the fact that yesterday they’d been at this for _six_ hours, it felt weak giving in now. Nelia shook her head a little, pulling along his uninjured arm and making him sit down next to her. “I insist, besides, I’m curious about some things.” Lukas raised an eyebrow at this as she paused, looking almost hesitant to continue.

“I’ll be honest. Every teacher claims to like all their students equally, but that’s bullshit. Everyone has favourites. In my experience, my favourite students are almost always Fynknian.” She smiled, nudging him a little. “You guys are naturally talented in combat, and you’re all motivated to get better and improve. Some others prefer to give up before getting a technique right, if it’s too hard, or painful, or challenging.” She sighed. “And because most of my favourites are Fynknian, I normally have to watch them disappear.” Nelia stopped talking at this point, and Lukas took the opportunity to speak.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Fynkn. Most of my trainees are only here to get better before going off to join the fight on-world. I must have watched a dozen go all the way to the Falloweil System and never return again. It’s just,” she clasped her hands together, “I understand, I really do. That planet is your home, and you want to free it from the Union, but…I’m sick of watching people that I’ve come to enjoy spending time with go and die.” She looked down. Lukas was speechless for a moment.

“Nelia…I won’t lie and say that I’ll never go back to Fynkn. I do want to, but…” he paused for a moment, “If I do, I promise I’ll try and come back.” She nodded.

“I suppose that’s the most I can ask for.” Nelia murmured. There was a beat of silence, before she sprung to her feet, so suddenly that Lukas jumped, and began to squint at the distance. “What on earth…?” she muttered, before taking off across the training ground. Startled and confused, Lukas saw no real course of action other than pulling himself to his feet and following her. Nelia’s face was creased into a frown, and she slowed upon reaching the edge of the training ground. A stretch of bare earth lay before them, where the leaf-strewn nets that hid them from above no longer afforded them protection. It was only, standing there, that Lukas saw what had caught her attention.

A dark shape was lurking in the sky, gradually growing closer. He squinted at it, before his eyes widened in horrified recognition. Nelia seemed to realise just a moment after he did what it was.

“It’s a ship,” he hissed, grabbing his mentor’s arm, “Nelia, I recognise that model. It’s Union-made.” It was only this grim statement which was able to break her out of the shocked stupor she seemed to be in. Suddenly, she had turned on her heel and was sprinting back the way they had come, shouting back to him as she did.

“Come on! If it sees you, we’re fucking doomed.” That was enough to get Lukas sprinting too, ignoring the sharp stinging in his joints as he did. He grabbed Nelia’s staff, still lying on the ground from one of their combat practices yesterday, as he ran, tossing it into the covered shelter where they had just been sitting. Nelia continued on through the forest, hurtling over massive roots and boulders which stood in her way. Lukas staggered after her. They needed to raise the alarm, otherwise they could potentially be spotted and fired on.

“Lukas!” Nelia yelled, “Get to the runway! Let everyone know and evac the ships!” he nodded, bolting off in it’s direction.

Their runway for ships wouldn’t raise any eyebrows, hopefully, since it had been built by the Coysash people decades ago. However, the presence of any ships on it definitely would. Though the runway was known to the Union, it was also known to be abandoned. If they saw anything on there…well, that ship had powerful cannons, and their vessels would be easy targets.

His chest felt ready to burst open when he finally made it there. He doubled over, clutching at his lungs. Luckily, some of the workers on the airfield had spotted him, and came hurrying over.

“Hey, you okay?” that familiar voice almost made Lukas cry with relief. Kari was frowning, but, true to her promise to Yao, was keeping both a physical and emotional distance. He looked up.

“Union ships approaching,” he forced out, “the airfield…” Kari was running before he’d even finished his sentence, screaming at the pilots and mechanics to get the ships in the hangars immediately. Kari had sway here, and the rebels trusted her word. Within a second, the runway was a frenzy of movement, as mechanics grabbed their materials and tools and unceremoniously threw them into the tree line to hide them from view, and pilots reboarded their ships to drive them into the hangars at the far end of the flat concrete.

He watched it for a second, breathing still ragged, as the once buzzing airfield became quiet and abandoned within the span of two minutes. A hand on his arm drew his attention, and he relaxed upon seeing that it was Kari, hauling him backwards, into the protection and camouflage which the trees offered. From where he stood, he could see some of the rebels running off, no doubt to alert other sectors of the resistance to the ship’s presence. Others had hunched down. He and Kari were seated in the dip between two large tree roots, watching silently.

Then, after a few minutes, it was above them.

It was so large that it cast a shadow across the whole runway, cutting off the sunlight from above and bathing everything in darkness. They could see the underside of the ship, and the cannons and guns which littered it. Kari had clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and frightened. Lukas swore that he had never been so still in his whole life. Fear and concern were thick in the air, and he shifted slightly, preparing for a long wait.

* * *

It was almost an hour before an all-clear signal rang out from the east, and the rebels hidden in the trees began to relax and get to their feet, murmuring gravely to one another. Lukas felt shaken as he clambered to his feet, muscles and joints screaming in protest. He exchanged a worried look with Kari. Though, to the other rebels, this was an unfortunate and frightening near-miss, it was a one-off. He and Kari knew better, however.

How much had the spy leaked to the Union? Enough information, clearly, that they knew that the base was on Nyma, and within Coysash territory.

He shuddered, closing his eyes briefly as his thoughts wandered to the rebels around them. He realised his mistake quickly, hand flying to his forehead as his mind unwittingly opened itself to the others in the Resistance.

When he was young, his prowess with his gifts had been tested by a woman from the military. The conversation she had had with his parents later had been just within his range of hearing, and what she had said about his gifts had frightened him.

“He’s powerful, remarkably so. One of the strongest manifestations in the past three millennia.”

His powers were stronger than even those of his parents. It had been an unspoken issue which had hung in the air between them. Even at such a young age, Lukas had been able to pick up on their private tension and concern. It had only been when he had accidentally read the mind of a diplomatic advisor and asked why he was lying about the Union not being dangerous that they had decided to make sure he learned to control it. In the time since the expansion, however, his main tactic concerning his gifts had been suppression. In the past few years he had felt brave enough to use them a little, but never to a very great extent. He’d always wished to have gifts like the Syhvvanian or Daernic royals, rather than those he did have. If a Syhvvanian royal lost control, the worst thing that could happen is something could be set on fire or thrown out a window telekinetically.

The worst-case scenario for his abilities? He could drive someone to complete insanity, give them absolutely crushing depression or epilepsy, put them in a coma or destroy their self-awareness and sentience entirely. On Fynkn, his ability to manipulate people’s minds was known as the Sjeltanker. In all honesty, he would rather not have it.

Lukas staggered as a tidal wave of emotions slammed into him. Kari caught his arm, and he could see her lips moving as a frown creased her brow, but he couldn’t hear a thing. His ears were full of fearful, suspicious and confused whispers; thoughts plucked from the heads of everyone around him, creating a buzzing, deafening static in his head. He sank to his knees as they grew louder in volume. He could hear Kari’s thoughts in all the mess. They were laced with growing concern over him. He clutched his head, shaking it as if it would help.

He was seeing and hearing things that he shouldn’t. Like how that Lysi rebel walking on the airfield was trying to become pregnant with her boyfriend, and how the Metteoan boy dusting off some mechanics’ tools was hoping that no-one discovered that he was terrified of the dark.

Suddenly, his head cleared, and he raised his head. Kari had grabbed his hands, his bare skin, and was staring at him, looking worried.

_what’swrongishesickhe’sgonepaleisthereanythingicandowhatisgoingonisthisabouttheshipishejusttiredorinjuredwhatisgoingon._..

He lurched away, feeling the static return as they broke contact. Her thoughts, jumbled but also clear, flowing through his head like water. He shook his head, willing the static to go silent, to no avail. He staggered to his feet. Kari was looking seriously worried, but this time, he could hear her when she spoke.

“Lukas…? Are you okay?” he drew in a deep breath.

“I’m fine.” He said, almost running past her. She whirled around, staring, before moving to follow him. He shook his head violently. “I’m fine.” He insisted again, though he knew he was slurring his words slightly, and his strained, harried appearance wasn’t helping his case. He could sense her presence, hear her thoughts, as she tried to catch up with him.

“Stop following me.” He said sharply. Abruptly, she stopped, halting completely. Her expression turned almost confused, blinking hard, as if she was trying to figure out why she had been following him. She looked almost…like she was being held in place. Realising what he had just done drove him forwards with terror. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Guilt tore him to pieces inside.

He needed to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Colin = Northern Ireland  
> Niamh = Ireland
> 
> Also, if you couldn't decipher it, Kari's thoughts say:   
> What’s wrong? Is he sick? He’s gone pale. Is there anything I can do? What is going on? Is this about the ship? Is he just tired? Or injured? What is going on?


	21. The Acquaintances That We Make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again! Updates will be more infrequent very quickly, because learning is important (ugh). I do have a good idea of what shall be coming in the next few chapters, however.
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- The free bounty hunters and pirates are now on Rela. Arthur managed to get through checkpoints with the help of his older brother, Colin.  
> \- A Union ship passed over the resistance base on Nyma, but found nothing. Lukas, after accidentally controlling Kari with his mental abilities, has run off.  
> \- Feliks, Tori, Gilbert and Roderich are all still prisoners of the rebels.   
> \- Lovino and Feliciano have befriended Vash. Lovino is aware that Vash is an assassin, and does not completely trust him, as the other man also seems to know more than he lets on.
> 
> CHARACTERS (not all appear, but all are mentioned, so):  
> Vladimir Popescu: Romania  
> Kristian Alekseev: Bulgaria  
> Nelia Domingo: Peru  
> Aija Galante: Female Latvia  
> Ismeta Disdarevic: Bosnia and Herzegovina
> 
> Fun fact: people in Romania rarely/never drink cold things. It is believed to be unhealthy. As a result, everything they drink is either room temperature or hot. Ice for drinks is also expensive in Romania for this reason.
> 
> Please comment guys! It fills the dark chasm in my soul!

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma  
7th Maarch

Kari managed to hunt him down, though it took her a good day to do so. She supposed, having the ability to sense her presence as he did made for a pretty good way to avoid someone. Since he had run off the day before, she had been walking massive, looping trails through the forest, almost walking out of it’s boundaries multiple times. To no avail. Lukas Bondevik, she had learned, was an evasive creature. It had taken her a good ten minutes for her body to respond to her will after Lukas had shouted at her, and she knew – from the horrified, guilty look that had been on his face as he bolted off – that it was this which was getting to him so much.

She didn’t mind, at all. Had she not promised Yao that she would help him hone his gifts if necessary? Anything that would help him get stronger, she was happy to do. In any case, it wasn’t like she was angry at him for using his abilities on her. She had realised that it was this which must have made him act so strangely after the near-miss with the Union ship, which she was ashamed of herself for not understanding earlier. Kari couldn’t be angry with him over it; he was like a little brother to her, even now.

It must have taken almost twenty sets of unintentionally misleading directions and potential sightings for her to find him. Tricky and evasive as he may be, her own stubbornness and determination were stronger. He was down near the target range, seemingly watching Kristian and Vladimir mess around while trying to hit the targets.

The pair were doing all sorts of stupid things in their attempts to hit the targets. Kari watched as Kristian, who had both hands tied back behind his back, attempted to fire a pistol with his feet while seated. The gun slipped as he fired it, and the bullet ricocheted off the ground. Vladimir swore loudly and ducked, hand over his head. Kristian began looking around wildly for the bullet. After a moment in which neither of them was accidentally shot, they slowly exchanged a look before dissolving into peals of laughter. Kari rolled her eyes. It was good for those two that Tino wasn’t nearby. Though Vlad was a good head taller than the blonde, Tino was their very best sniper, and could be damn intimidating when he wanted to be, especially over gun safety. Smirking, she silently pulled her own revolver out from her belt and carefully fired it about an inch or two above Kristian’s head. The Iramese boy gave a violent start and promptly fell on his face. When Vlad spotted Kari, he keeled over with laughter again, ignoring the disgruntled swearing from Kristian, who seemed to be unable to get back to his feet. Vlad waved as Kari raised an eyebrow reproachfully.

“I don’t think that counts as proper gun safety!” she shouted to them. Vlad grinned again.

“My deepest apologies,” the 20-year-old said, as he picked Kristian up by the collar like some disobedient puppy, “we will make sure to do so in the future.” he gave her a lazy salute, before marching off the target range, dragging Kristian along behind him.

To her surprise, Lukas hadn’t immediately vanished upon witnessing this display, and remained seated where he was, frowning. He ducked his head further, eyes on the targets, when she approached. She cocked her head to the side, raised an eyebrow accusingly, and put her hands on her hips.

“May I ask why you’ve been avoiding me all day?” he was silent. “Lukas?” he gritted his teeth, and she frowned. “Lukas. Look at me.”

“You know why.” He murmured, voice so quiet that she had lean further toward him to hear it. She frowned.

“No, I don’t, really.” She snapped. He sighed, finally looking up and meeting her eyes.

“I…I accidentally let everyone in.” he murmured. “And it got to me so much that when I yelled at you…” he trailed off. Kari sat down next to him.

“Elaborate. Now.” She said. He looked at her. She sighed. “I’m not angry at you at all Lukas, if that’s what you think. I don’t think I ever could be. I just want to understand this better. I know about your gifts, but I didn’t exactly get a formal education on them, just a few notes in a textbook every now and then. So go on. Give me all that you know.” He was silent again, but began to speak before she could prompt him again.

“Well, basically, the royal families of Daerna, Syhvva and Fynkn have always been distinguished from normal civilians by the presence of gifts. The royal family of each has two; traditionally one corresponding to an element, and another that is in some way linked to the mind or body. On Fynkn, these abilities are referred to as the lahjöf.” He sighed before continuing, speaking very much like he was reciting some lesson he’d had drilled into him dozens of times.

“The lahjöf of the Fynknian royal family are the Vesi and the Sjeltanker. Sjeltanker allows the user to manipulate any and all aspects of a person’s mind, and the Vesi allows the user to manipulate water in all it’s forms.” He rested his head on his arms. “In me, both are apparently far more powerful than is normally seen, according to some military researcher, which leaves me far more susceptible to losing control. That’s what happened yesterday. I accidentally opened my mind to everyone else’s emotions and thoughts.” He finished with a huff. Kari nodded. Some of this she already knew, but other parts were new information. It was interesting to hear, in any case. She looked closely at him.

“So what’s the problem? You’ve used your gifts before, haven’t you?” Lukas hesitated, before nodding.

“Yes…but—”

“But what?” she interrupted, “You made me stand still for a few minutes, big deal. How is that different to using your Sjeltanker on someone else?”

“Because they were strangers who I didn’t really know! You’re my friend! I mean, I’d never use it on Emilia.” Kari stared at him for a moment, feeling deeply touched, before she swung an arm around his shoulders and hugged him. He squirmed in her embrace for a moment before giving in and relaxing into it.

“Why is everyone being so sentimental and lovey recently? I mean, first Nelia, and now you.” Kari laughed, ignoring how her curiosity had been peaked by his comment about Nelia. She punched him gently in the arm.

“Shut up.”

* * *

Kari couldn’t quite find herself caring enough about Yao’s warning that night to not sit with Lukas at dinner. They were yet to do so, and the past week she had continued to sit with her normal crowd, all the while keeping her eye on Lukas discreetly. His most usual dinner companions had been Emilia, Tino and Nelia, as far as she had seen, though the first two in particular. As glad as she was to see him making friends – and Tino was a great place to start, she knew that from personal experience – she figured that it wouldn’t hurt to let him sit with her. Besides, then she could establish him as some sort of Fynknian trainee, thus making it less suspicious if she were to spend time with him.

So, she hauled him into the massive, covered area which encompassed their mess hall to sit with her. To her surprise, Vlad joined the two of them not long after they had sat down, dragging his tray of food with him. He grinned at Kari, winking mischievously. She rolled her eyes at him. No doubt, he was here to hopefully discourage her from telling Tino about his and Kristian’s reckless behaviour earlier. Not even a moment later, her suspicions were confirmed when he leaned across the table, puppy-dog eyes on full display.

“Now Kari, I know we can have our differences,” he began, ignoring her eye-roll, “but I know that we are both equally devoted to this cause,” Kari sighed and folded her arms, “and I believe that, should you betray my trust, I will not be able to serve this cause to the best of my ability.” He placed a hand over his heart, feigning melodrama. Kari stared back at him, unimpressed. She leaned forward slightly, smirking.

“And why is that?” Vlad paused, before throwing on a charming smile, eyes crinkling in apparent distress.

“Well, you see, my darling Kari, in the past I have been reprimanded for acting in what has been dubbed an inappropriate manner near the target range,”

“Because you deconstructed one of them to make pipe bombs.” She interrupted.

“—And I have been accused of spending too much time there, “

“Because you skipped out on teaching subordinates to get drunk and start throwing nails and screws at the bullseyes.” She interrupted again.

“And some people think that my abilities do not even lie with shooting,”

“Because you’re a detonation technician, not a sniper, and you shaved part of Aija’s hair off once.” She sighed and shook her head. “Vlad, just get on with it.”

“Okay, fine,” he leaned forward, gesturing sharply with his hands, “Tino’s created a point system for non-snipers using the target range. If we fuck up enough, we’re banned from it. We’ve only got ten strikes, and I’ve managed to accumulate about eight. Using guns without permission adds another two. If you tell him, I’ll get banned from using it.” Kari shrugged.

“That’s not my problem, and you _were_ acting stupidly this afternoon. Did you two even think about how you could have hurt yourselves? Or someone else?” she shook her head. “Besides, you aren’t a sniper; you make bombs and explosives. Why is it so important to hang around the target range?” Kari stared Vlad down as he picked at the fraying fabric of his gloves. Black and white, striped harlequin-style, they were a constant of his outfit. He sighed.

“I just don’t wanna get banned from somewhere which is so fun to hang out at.” He insisted. Kari rolled her eyes.

“Bullshit. You just want to be given as many opportunities as possible to make out with Kristian behind buildings.” Vlad looked like he was going to argue that statement for a moment, before sighing and deflating, shrugging his shoulders.

“Okay, yes, that too.”

Kari had to try not to grin in triumph. Everyone who wasn’t blind or stupid knew that they were a thing. The only problem was Ismeta Dizdarevic, an Iramese girl who was within their tight-knit group of friends. Kristian had been the first person to really reach out to her when she had arrived at the resistance, and she had slowly but surely fallen for him since.

Everyone within their friendship group knew, and Ismeta was just too nice for anyone to want to break the hard news to her. Vlad himself was a close friend of hers, and obviously didn’t want to hurt her in such a way. As Kari knew, Vlad had been one of the first people to discover Ismeta’s attraction to Kristian. And, it made sense for Vlad to want to hang out near the target range. Ismeta was a medic, and such, never went there unless some sort of freak accident happened (which was rare in itself). It was probably one of the few places that the two could spend time together without fear that she would stumble across them.

Kari sighed, leaning back and gazing at the tarpaulin ceiling as if in deep thought. She looked Vlad in the eyes, throwing her hands up dramatically.

“Okay, fine, I won’t tell Tino, but try to keep from accidentally killing someone again, yes?” Vlad nodded vigorously.

“Yes ma’am.” He said, looking surprisingly serious as he clasped his hands together. “I promise.”

Lukas, who had been looking between the two with interest as the conversation progressed, raised an eyebrow. “Okay, can someone fill me in? I’m confused.” He shook his head at Vlad. “Not about you not almost killing people again. I saw you two shooting this afternoon.” He blinked. “Why is the target range so important.” Vlad locked his hands together.

“Good segue, actually.” He said, jabbing a finger at Lukas. “Who are you?” Kari laughed.

“This is Lukas Christensen.” She explained. “He’s a relatively new recruit. I decided to help the poor little shit out a bit. He’s not much for socialising.” Vlad’s hands flew to his heart again.

“A plight I can relate to!” he exclaimed, grinning as he lowered his hands to the table and leant forward, as if conspiring with him. “I was an awkward youngster in the past as well, don’t you worry.”

“You’re still an awkward youngster.” Kari remarked. Vlad sent her an affronted look.

“Hey! I’m twenty years old, I don’t think you can really call me a youngster anymore.” Kari smirked.

“Well I’m 23, which makes you younger than me. Therefore, from my point of view, you’re a youngster.” Vlad scoffed, sipping from the bottle he had brought with him; likely holding black coffee. Vlad was unique like that; he loved coffee, but he only really seemed to drink it at room temperature. Hell, the guy also refused to drink anything with ice in it. Everyone knew; never offer Vlad a cold drink, because it would be rejected in the nicest way possible. But, Kari supposed, everyone was entitled to their preferences.

“I don’t think you can argue with that, Vlad.” A new voice said from Kari’s left. She turned, smiling when she saw Kristian sliding into the seat next to Vlad. The two sat close, arms pressed together. Vlad’s entire face seemed to light up when Kristian appeared, all signs of irritation – both real and exaggerated – vanishing to the corners of his mind. Kristian beamed at him, and for a second, the two were so cute Kari was at danger of ‘ _aww’_ -ing them, when he turned back to her. “I suppose that makes me the equivalent of a foetus in your eyes then?” Kari shook her head.

“That’s a bit of a stretch,” she said, smirking, “Lukas here is about foetus-level. I’d say you’re more pre-conception.” Kristian winced.

“Ouch.” Vlad laughed at his boyfriend’s facial expression, wrapping his arm around Kristian’s narrow shoulders.

“Aww, don’t let Kari get to you.” He chuckled. “She’s a cruel vixen all right.” Kari stuck her tongue out at him, and Vlad returned it in kind. Kristian rolled his eyes, and Lukas turned to him, shaking his head at Vlad.

“You poor thing.” he said sympathetically. Kristian nodded, face resting halfway between exasperation and fondness.

“It is hard,” he sighed, “Intelligent conversation is just impossible, you know?” he looked down, feigning sorrow. Vlad was staring at him, looking offended. Lukas patted Kristian’s hand, obviously trying not to laugh.

“Hey!” Vlad blurted out. Kristian dissolved into giggles, almost immediately causing Vlad to lose his anger as he became occupied with observing how unfairly cute his boyfriend had suddenly become. Kari rolled her eyes, as did Lukas, and the two turned their attention back to their neglected meals. Lukas poked at his before placing his fork down. It was cold anyway. Once Kristian had stopped laughing, and Vlad had stopped staring, the Iramese boy grinned, before offering his hand to Lukas.

“Kristian Alekseev.” Blinking a little in surprise, Lukas took it.

“Lukas Christensen.” He said, the alias flowing out smoothly. Vlad grinned.

“Vladimir Popescu, though I go by Vlad to most people, as you probably heard from Kari.” Lukas nodded. He eyed Vlad.

“I never had my question answered, now that I think of it.” He said. “About why you love the target range so much.”

With Kristian sitting next to him now, it seemed a more embarrassing topic. Vlad flushed pink.

“You know, I’m sure I can explain that later.” He said, scratching the back of his neck. Lukas raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering between Vlad and Kristian.

“Your boyfriend’s a weak shit.” He commented. Vlad inhaled part of his coffee, Kari’s mouth fell open, and Kristian dissolved into laughter again, slapping the table in amusement. Vlad lowered his bottle, staring at Lukas. There was a beat of silence as Kristian’s laughter died down, before Vlad reached across the table, seized his hand and shook it vigorously.

“You. Kid. I like you.” He said, pointing at Lukas’ face as a smile began breaking out over his face. He turned to Kari. “No wonder you’re helping out the kid, he’s as blunt and snappy as you.” Lukas shrugged, not looking even slightly offended, as someone else might’ve.

“Like attracts like.” He said simply. Vlad’s grin extended even further.

“What sort of division are you in?” he inquired. “Like, are you a pilot, mechanic, sniper? Something else?” Lukas looked a little caught off guard by the question.

“I don’t know that I really have a division yet.” He said, shrugging. Kari jumped in.

“He’s getting training from Nelia, so I would say combat related stuff.” Vlad’s eyes widened at her statement.

“Nelia? Oh, you poor cunt.” He said sympathetically. “I’m guessing she’s been making you learn to dislocate your joints?” Lukas grimaced, rubbing at his shoulder, saying nothing. Vlad cackled. “I mean, it’s kind of a compliment to you, though. Nelia only takes on fighters who are already very skilled.” He half-raised his bottle to his lips, before pausing and placing it on the table again. “Say, do you know anything about bombs and explosives?” Lukas blinked.

“Um, no, not really.”

Vlad grinned. “Would you like to?” Lukas looked taken aback, before he nodded slowly. Vlad beamed. “Brilliant! Just come by the detonations tent whenever Nelia frees you from her torture sessions, and I can teach you some stuff.” Lukas nodded again, a genuine smile stretching across his face.

“Uh, okay, yeah.” Vlad grinned again, before standing up and shoving his tray out of his way.

“I can see dessert approaching.” He said, eyes fixed on the food bar. Kristian rolled his eyes, ignoring his boyfriend as he practically sprinted to it, but also smiled at Lukas.

“I can also teach you some shooting tips, though I’ll warn you, Tino is a much better teacher than me.” Lukas laughed a little, nodding.

“Yeah, I’d like to, thanks.” He murmured. Kristian smiled again, though his happy expression fell away, replaced by something more sombre as he watched a teenage girl enter the mess hall. Kari followed his gaze, wincing in sympathy.

“Ah, Ismeta.” The girl had already seen Vlad, and had approached him, no doubt asking where Kristian was. Before Kristian could even ask, Kari was speaking. “I’ll tell her that you weren’t feeling well.” She said. Kristian gave her a grateful look.

“Thanks. And I’m serious, Lukas, come down to the range again and I’ll show you how to shoot.” Lukas nodded, lifting a hand in farewell as the Iramese boy hurriedly exited the mess hall. Kari shook her head.

“Look at you, making friends so fast.” She said, smiling at him before mussing up his hair. He had hated it as a child, and clearly still hated it now, as he dodged her hand. “I’m so proud.” She said dramatically. Lukas rolled his eyes before rising to his feet, though he did look rather happier now than he had when they’d arrived.

“I,” he said, “am exhausted.” Kari laughed. No doubt his fatigue stemmed from his running away from her since yesterday.

“Sleep well.” She replied as he exited the mess hall, figure gradually being swallowed by the darkness in the forest beyond.

* * *

_Szwicza District,_  
Bibesti, Rela,  
7th Marrch

The message arrived at noon.

Vash, who had been relaxing in his apartment, had looked up in surprise when his Cell let out the noise which indicated that he had received a message. His brow creased. Whenever clients of his were requesting a job, they always came to him personally. The same went for financial transactions once he had done his part. They never messaged him; that left a potential trail which could one day result in a very long prison term for either him or his employer. No, this wasn’t one of his usual jobs then. This was a client clearly interested in utilising his brain instead of his fists. A surprising change, but a welcome one.

He had operated as an information broker and arms dealer for years before his gift at murder was even discovered. But since he’d been taken on as the apprentice of an assassin, he had found his former profession was being less and less called upon. It was a shame, as the less dangerous and markedly non-violent job had been what allowed him to stay sane during his brutal training as an assassin. It had long been the calm part of his life which acted as a reprieve.

But in the past few years, his name had become synonymous with death, and his other services seemingly forgotten. For someone to ask this of him now was interesting. His eyes flickered across the top of the screen. Though it had been sent anonymously, their Cell’s identification number was still visible at the top. He murmured the sequence under his breath, and scowled. Familiar, but not entirely welcome. He sighed, before quickly sending out a reply. Work was work, and he couldn’t well afford to reject any of it.

Vash rose from his chair, knowing that he would have to tidy his apartment up a little before tomorrow, in any case, and warn Lovino and Feliciano that he would be getting visitors. He was under no illusion that his lies had worked on Lovino. The man was intelligent, and he definitely would have seen something amiss with Vash’s explanations to them. It was why they got along so well. Vash could hardly stand for idiots, and he felt that Lovino was the same. Feliciano’s naivete was not the same as stupidity, as Vash had personally witnessed the boy’s desire to learn. Feliciano’s ignorance was not intentional, and obviously unwelcome by even the boy himself. Vash could tell he was smart as well, just not as world-wise as Lovino.

Just as he knew they were under no illusion about his real profession, Vash himself was under no illusion that they were Jhobrasian. They were very convincing, yes, but no Jhobrasian had eyes as vibrant as theirs. Nor did they speak words with the certain tilt that the brothers did.

But, in Vash’s mind, it made no difference if they were Syhvvanian or in fact Jhobrasian as they claimed. The need for secrecy was strong nowadays, and particularly for people like them. Vash was no great loyalist to the Union, and even if he had been, he would have remained silent anyway. It was their business, not his, and he could not, in good conscience, turn them in and take the responsibility for their lives away from them. He was an assassin, trusted to end people’s lives. He didn’t know that there were many people who would ever trust him with theirs.

At times, he was tempted to ask them further about their home. Syhvva was within this very system, yet Vash had never even been close to it. He had heard plenty; that it was beautiful, that the people were proud and fierce, that the climate was exquisite, etcetera. But he would not dare. Lovino may have been several years his junior, but death clung to him as it did to Vash. He did not fear him, but he was appropriately wary.

He knocked on their door, waiting only a moment before the man himself opened the door, eyes widening a little in surprise. Vash would always enjoy that. Even if he didn’t already like the aspects of Lovino’s personalities, his appearance would have been enough to attract him nonetheless. He often imagined what he would like with his actual hair colour, and what sort of red it would be. After thinking over such things, the black almost diminished Lovino’s appearance. The sharp, pure amber shade which greeted Vash when they made eye contact made up for it, though.

“I just wanted to let you know that I will be receiving some visitors tomorrow, in the morning. I’m not sure how many there will be, but it will be a group.” Lovino nodded. “You’re still welcome to come in,” Vash continued, “I just wanted to let you know.”

“All right, thanks.” He said, shooting Vash a small smile that, had he been a weaker man and, had he not already committed Lovino as a friend in his mind, would have made him almost literally pounce on him. He steeled himself. He had not sought companionship of that kind for a long time, and being faced with such an attractive man, who lived so nearby as Lovino did, was only reminding him of that fact. Vash nodded, pulling himself away from the doorframe. “Well, good afternoon, I suppose.” The younger man murmured. Vash merely nodded again in response as Lovino closed the door.

_Good afternoon to you as well, and may I pray that my impending visitors are not so observant as myself, your majesty._


	22. The Scheming in Darkened Corners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again! I am back, and already updating less frequently than I wanted to. I really must warn you guys, this year will be plagued by infrequent updates, which i do sincerely apologise for in advance.
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- Feliks, Gilbert, Tori and Roderich are still prisoners of the resistance. Lukas has managed to befriend Vlad, a detonation expert, and Kristian, a sniper like Tino.   
> \- Lovino and Feliciano are still in Bibesti, and have befriended Vash. Vash is aware of who they are, but is yet to tell anyone. He is expecting visitors.  
> \- Tensions are rising among the rebels, as the search for a dangerous spy goes on. 
> 
> Please comment guys! It gives me motivation!!!!!!! MOTIVATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

_Bibesti, Rela,  
8th Marrch_

Bibesti was, at first glance, much the same as Loszok. A vast city whose suburbs and districts spread across the land like a massive, blooming flower. From the view of the sky-rail swiftly carrying them towards the looming towers and skyscrapers on the horizon, it looked clean-cut, almost sterile. But their destination was not the gleaming towers of the centre. His gaze turned towards the far-east of the massive city. The markedly poorer Szwicza District was their goal. The contact of Roderich’s who Natalya had contacted had deigned to respond to them yesterday, supplying nothing more than an address and a time.

Antonio himself knew nothing of this contact. Natalya had warned them all that he was dangerous, but that was hardly anything knew for the group. Though there was only one of this contact, and several of them in comparison, Antonio remained on edge. None of them were exactly fighting fit. Feliks was one of their best, and his absence from their group, which Antonio had never experienced before, was beginning to show. They had been mugged by a group of street thugs about two days ago, back in Loszok. They’d fought them off, yes, but Francis was so used to having Feliks guard his side that he’d taken a knife before the fight had ended. Arthur and Berwald had had to carry him back to their lodgings. No-one at the desk had so much as looked their way.

Rela, it seemed, was truly like no other planet Antonio had been on before. The people here demonstrated disinterest in anything that was not themselves or their own affairs. While that worked to their advantage, it was unsettling. He supposed that the people here had learned their apathy from years of hardship, but even on Reycass, there was a chance that an injured person may be offered assistance. Here, they had to rely on their own.

Antonio stood, moving away from the window as the skyline continued to grow in size. There were a few stops yet until the train reached the Szwicza District. Francis had capitalised on the opportunity by turning his head into his shoulder and taking a nap. Arthur – who had very reluctantly agreed to keep an eye on the blonde and his wound – was sitting next to him, a well-worn book held loosely in his hands as his eyes skimmed its pages. Antonio didn’t quite understand the history between those two.

Half the time they were arguing enough for him to want to rake his own ears off. But at other times, they almost seemed to get along. Like during the fight with the rebels, they had worked so well together that it had legitimately shocked Antonio. Even when Francis got stabbed back in Loszok, Arthur had used one arm to hold the blonde up, and the other to put pressure on the stab wound to stop the bleeding, and continued to do so when they were inside their room. They seemed to know each other in a way that neither their band of bounty hunters nor Kirkland’s crew of pirates knew them as individuals.

It was enough to make anyone’s mind race. They had history, Antonio knew that, but Francis liked to claim that they had hated one another from the start. But he remembered.

Not long after Antonio had joined this group, they had all been sitting in the living room of what would become their long-term residence. Back then, it had only been Matthias, Feliks, Gilbert, Louise, Alfred, Francis and Antonio himself. The lot of them had been sitting around the television, half-watching the news while joking around with one another. Their attention had been drawn to the screen by a breaking news alert. The story that followed had been about a pirate, fairly new to the criminal landscape, who had somehow gotten into high security vaults belonging to Yanish nobility. Hundreds of thousands of marks had been stolen, and it had verifiably stunned the entire Kyrs System.

Nothing like it had ever been accomplished before. The pirate had already been identified as a young man called Arthur Kirkland, and a slightly grainy image of his face had been displayed on the screen. Antonio had remembered looking on in shock, before turning to see what his friends thought. When his gaze fell on Francis, his eyes were met with an expression of such anguished horror that it was almost painful. Before he could so much as ask what was getting to him so much, the expression melted away, replaced by neutral surprise. Antonio had known that Francis had some sort of connection to the man involved in the heist, but had never felt brave enough to ask. It was clear, to Antonio anyway, that whatever had existed between Francis and Kirkland, there was no way it had been hatred right off the bat. He had long wanted to get to the bottom of that mystery, but he knew it wasn’t his place to bug his friend over something that was obviously so touchy.

Antonio sighed as their destination flashed up as the next stop. He saw Arthur punch Francis to wake him up. Though, he noted, he did so in his shoulder, so as to not cause him true pain. The corners of Antonio’s mouth turned up a little. He had long seen the pirate as heartless, but clearly, he had the capacity for some compassion. In spite of the dislike Antonio himself had for Kirkland, he was slowly starting to like him more. No-one could deny that he was an interesting man.

The group disembarked. They had decided beforehand to not all go to scout out this contact of Roderich’s, and instead have some go inside, while others remained outside to keep watch for anything suspicious. Antonio was one of the ‘lucky’ ones going inside. Coming along as well were Arthur, Natalya, Matthias, Louise, Francis, Alfred and Berwald (for intimidation reasons). The others would keep a watch and make sure that they couldn’t be jumped or caught off guard.

The streets of Szwicza were, predictably, much different from those in the city centre. The people here were poorer, meaner and far more suspicious. Here, people wouldn’t just ignore you if you were stabbed, they would take the opportunity to knock you out and rob you as well. Their eyes generally skimmed over their group, dressed in plainer clothes as they were, but Antonio could see many pickpockets with their eyes trained on their soon-to-be-targets.

Looking around to distract himself was almost worse. The buildings were all either vandalised, derelict or clearly had been made home by squatters. Market stalls cluttered the streets, their owners watching every person who so much as looked their way. Antonio spotted one fruit seller who had a cocked shotgun sitting on the table next to them. Shuddering a little, he made sure to give the stall a wide berth. The air was thick with the scent of smoke (both wood and tobacco), oiled meat that Antonio could see displayed at many places, and petrol. It was far from the worst smell Antonio had ever encountered, but it set him on edge. There was a sweet, musky undertone to it which was making his stomach turn.

It’s source became apparent when they turned a corner. Antonio’s stomach rolled even further as Arthur screwed up his nose, but otherwise didn’t react. Francis winced, and several of the others looked like they felt nauseous themselves.

A twisted, towering pile of corpses sat near the street corner. They seemed to predominantly be human, but Antonio could see some other species in the mix. They were all in different states of decomposition. Those at the top seemed to have died recently, with barely any signs that they were actually dead, save for the ashen tone of their skin, and unyielding stiffness of their bodies. Those at the bottom had clearly been there for some time. Black in colour, there were some whose decaying, necrotic flesh had begun to fall away from the bones. They had deep cavities in their faces where their eyes had once been, and Antonio could see some whose stomachs had burst open from the build-up of gases. The smell of them permeated the air, and made his eyes water. The whole pile writhed and heaved with flies and maggots.

Antonio pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth to stop the smell, choking back the bile which had rushed up his throat at the sight. He could see the others doing the same as he rushed past the pile. Even when the horrible scene was streets behind them, Antonio swore he could still smell the decay. He was so lost in his thoughts of the poor people unable to be buried that he completely walked past the building they had been told to go to. Francis had to seize him by the collar to stop him, before gesturing at the building.

It was a tall building, definitely about 200 floors, and clearly a residential. The whole thing was made of ruddy bricks and concrete, and black pipes and fire escapes decorated the side of the vast building like ivy. Antonio had to tip his head back ridiculously far to see the top. His brows slowly made their way up his forehead. He heard Matthias whistle. They all exchanged a look, before turning to Natalya. She pulled her Cell from the inside of her jacket and tapped at it for a moment. After verifying the address, she nodded, putting it away again.

“This is it.” She said. “Floor 176, Room 5270.”

Swallowing nervously and wondering why it had to be him who was chosen to go up, Antonio cautiously followed her inside. The foyer of the building didn’t seem like anything special. Just a desk pushed against a far wall in a way reminiscent of a hotel, with a sleeping clerk behind it. The other side of the room, the right, held a epitaphal. Antonio loved those. They were used widely in large buildings like this for mail. All you had to do was type in your room number and a passcode, and whoosh! Your mail would arrive in a sealed tube to collect. The tubes then had to be unlocked by a key – which usually only the owner and the landlord had a copy of – to ensure security. A young man around Antonio’s own age with black hair was currently operating it, frowning slightly at the screen. Antonio watched him for a moment, turning away when Natalya caught his attention.

Following her, they entered a large, circular room. A hydraulic platform, Antonio realised, the kind used in large buildings which had storehouses. They were made large so that cargo could be stacked in along with any passengers. Natalya pressed the button for the 176th floor, and suddenly, the platform was in motion, hurtling upwards at an almost sickening rate. For several long moments, there was near-silence as the platform moved. Antonio could feel doubt twisting his stomach into knots, and he didn’t think that the motion of the platform – which was swinging ever so slightly – was really helping much.

Just as the thought passed through his mind, the platform shuddered even more violently, before pulling to a halt. Antonio saw Arthur hauling Francis, who had fallen from the shuddering, back to his feet. For a moment, he thought – rather wildly – that a malfunction had occurred, and they would be stuck here for hours as it was repaired. That idea was banished from his head, however, when he saw Natalya gesturing them over to a door set into the far side of the wall, accessible only by a worryingly flimsy-looking metal walkway. Natalya strode across it without fear, unsurprisingly, and they had no choice but to follow.

The hallway beyond the platform was shockingly…normal. The wallpaper clearly hadn’t been replaced in about twenty years – peeling badly as it was – and the carpet was stained with who knew what, but Antonio had seen places like this before. It was the first part of Rela, and definitely the first part of Bibesti, which didn’t seem to throw him off balance. He found himself relaxing a little, even if they were closer to the snake’s den than before. Natalya fearlessly charged ahead, eyes roving over the numbers on the doors, before she finally paused in front of one, glaring back impatiently as they made their way towards her.

Antonio just had time to check the door – Room 5270 indeed – before Natalya knocked sharply on the surface. There was a moment of silence, before a muffled voice called out.

“It’s open.” Natalya swung it open, and they stepped into a rather average-looking sitting room. A group of couches were arranged around a low coffee table in the centre of the room, which connected on to a small kitchen. A small kitchen island had a mug of faintly steaming _something_ sitting atop it.

“You’re late.” They jumped, spinning around as a young man emerged from a doorway to their right. He was of about average height, and had blonde hair cut similarly to Feliks’ and a pair of bright green eyes. He wore a simple, long-sleeved grey shirt with its sleeves rolled halfway up his forearm, and a pair of military khakis. He didn’t even appear to be armed. Natalya scoffed at his words.

“Three minutes late.” She retorted. The man raised an eyebrow.

“You’re still late.” He responded, face expressionless. Natalya scowled as he turned away from them. “So, why exactly have you contacted me? I do hope that there’s a reason. Unless you just wanted to enjoy my fine company.” He scooped his mug from the kitchen island, taking a sip as he observed them.

Apparently sensing that Natalya was already annoyed by this guy, Arthur stepped up to explain.

“In short, about six weeks ago, my crew captured a rebel fighter to later hand over to the Union for money. Her friends weren’t very happy about it, and attacked our ship. They kidnapped four of our crewmates. We now need help getting them back.” Arthur folded his arms. “According to Natalya, you might be the right one for such a job.” The blonde raised an eyebrow.

“You really want to face the resistance head on? I don’t know if anyone has ever explained this to you, but they are quite the formidable force. A band of criminals won’t be able to outsmart the group which has been outsmarting the fucking _Union_ for decades.” Natalya grit her teeth.

“We aren’t looking to outsmart them. We’re looking to just get our friends back.” The man shrugged.

“In that case, I don’t see why you need me. The rebels, I’ve dealt with before. They can be surprisingly reasonable.” He tilted his head to the side a little. “Most likely, they’ll set a fair bail for your friends. If you pay it, they’ll let them go. Easy as that.” He sipped from his mug. Arthur hesitated a moment before answering.

“Yes, that’s probably true, but…well, considering their fighting ability, we doubt that they would be held in an outpost. The group which attacked us were likely heading back to their base. And we don’t have a problem trading with the resistance, we have a problem in getting there in the first place.” At this, the blonde finally stilled.

“Ahh, yes.” He made eye contact with them. “The Coysash are a tricky hurdle to jump.” Noticing how they all tensed slightly, the smallest smirk appeared on his face. “Any fool can deduce that Nyma is the rebels’ current hideout.” He folded his arms. “So, in actuality, you want me to get you down to Nyma’s surface, and then through to Coysash territory so you can barter for your friends?”

Arthur nodded, but his expression shifted to anger when the other man shook his head. “Not a chance.”

“What?” Arthur snapped. “Why not?” the man raised an eyebrow.

“Because that’s incredibly dangerous, and time-consuming.” He shrugged. “Oh yes, it’s possible. It’s definitely possible, but who says you’ll be able to give me what I want in return for such a favour?” Natalya narrowed her eyes.

“You work in money, Vash. We’ll pay you.” The man – Vash – raised his eyebrows.

“Me and the rebels both? Oh my, your bank accounts will take a bit of a hit, won’t they?” he turned around, walking into the kitchen. “Now, if there’s nothing else of importance that you have to say–”

“They took Roderich.” Natalya blurted out. “He was one of the four the rebels kidnapped.” To Antonio’s complete and utter shock, where the promise of money didn’t make him bat an eye, the mention of Roderich apparently did. Vash stilled before turning around again to face them. His expression was the same, but his grip on his mug had tightened – to the point where his knuckles had turned white. He watched them keenly for a moment, exhaling slowly.

“How much?” he asked. “How much are you willing to pay me? To get you all on Nyma, through Mugarobe territory, and to the rebels?” Arthur paused for a moment, rubbing at his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Would you accept 150,000 marks?” he proposed. Vash shifted his hold on the mug.

“170,000.” Arthur scowled, but conceded.

“Fine.” Vash settled back against the counter, placing his mug down.

“Okay, now I’m listening.” He fixed Arthur with a stare. “Tell me what happened again. We’ll need as many details as we can get.”

* * *

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,  
10th Marrch

Yao swallowed as the canister was passed to him. Though it only weighed about a pound, it felt far heavier. It was a small object, and yet so much had been sacrificed to get it here safely. The canister was about a foot long, and made of lightweight but strong metal. It had a pale green colour, like copper Verdigris, and the outside felt almost chalky, according to the others. In all honesty, it looked like a very tall soft drink can, with a small, tab-like section on one end. It looked like any of the canisters used to carry messages safely. This canister, however, was distinguished by the presence of the dark blood which was splattered up it’s side. It had stained the metal entirely, and many efforts made to wash it had been in vain. Yao was almost glad. He would rather see it, and know exactly what had been done to preserve this canister, and the information within.

He swallowed again as the young pilot being debriefed completed her tale. She had been the only one, of the eleven on this mission, to survive.

“And this canister was preserved how?” he asked quietly, turning it over in his hands. The pilot took in a deep breath, looking shocked to have been called upon by the leader of the whole rebel movement.

“Well, Lieutenant Nasrin was severely wounded before we could retrieve the canister. She took an axe to the stomach.” The pilot hesitated slightly. “She…she opened the wound more and hid the canister inside her body.” The girl bit her lip. “Before she died, she sent me a message telling me in was concealed in her stomach. When the guards cleansing the area cleared out the bodies, I raided their corpse barge to retrieve it. I then returned here, as per my orders.” The girl was pale as a sheet, and her uniform was covered in dark stains – no doubt even more of Lieutenant Nasrin’s blood. Despite it, Yao could not even lift his head to comfort her. His grip on the canister tightened. He heard Vice-General Gabras comforting the girl, gently leading her from the tent to clean up.

Yao’s own stomach was aching, as if trying to emulate the feel of an axeblade buried inside. The hand that wasn’t gripping the canister shook ever so slightly. He closed his eyes for a moment, placing the canister on the table in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he opened them once more, willing the shakes in his hand to subside. It had been a long time since a mission had come back with only one survivor. It was hard to see. That girl had watched her team get butchered, and yet still had the strength to plunge her hands into her dead friend’s stomach and fly all the way to Nyma without rest.

Yao’s eyes roved over the canister again, taking in the small dents it had suffered in its surface. The blood almost completely covered it. But no nausea came. Yao had long ago foregone the ability to feel discomfort in the face of graphic scenes or death. He didn’t so much as look up when Aelia Gabras returned to the tent, silently watching him.

“What’s her name?” he inquired, jerking his head roughly in the direction of the exit. “The pilot, I mean.”

“Yelisa Grech.” Aelia murmured, frowning at the canister herself. “She’s a Lance Corporal. Iramese, I believe.” Yao nodded silently, committing the name to memory. The Vice-General moved to his side. “We should open it.” He nodded, moving to do so only when General Hassan had also entered the tent.

Though on the outside, it appeared to be almost a solid metal cylinder, inside, it was hollowed out. Yao reached inside and pulled out a data chip, no larger than his palm. He turned it over as Aelia watched. This. This had cost the lives of ten people. He sighed, handing it to Aelia.

“Have the techs decode and arrange all the files. Get Ailseth to run a summary.” Aelia nodded, swiftly departing with the chip as Yao ran a gloved hand through his hair. Mohammed Hassan didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to, simply picking up the canister to look at it more closely. Noting the blood, he set it down again, more gingerly than before. He folded his arms.

“What was on there?” he asked, deep voice as quiet as always. Yao looked up.

“It contains some of the only information about the spy currently in our ranks.” He sighed, fatigue overtaking him as he thought about it. “Hopefully, it might narrow down our search a little.” Mohammed nodded, frowning at Yao.

“You need rest, friend.” He said. “The others notice not, but I can tell. The last few weeks have worn you to the bone.” Yao smiled tiredly.

“That they have, Mohammed.” He agreed. “But I can’t, not yet. I need to be present when that information becomes available.” Mohammed nodded.

“I understand.” He murmured. “But you still need to sleep.” Yao sighed, knowing that the General spoke the truth.

“If I can afford it, I will.” He said. “I have to check upon our newer recruits.” Mohammed shook his head.

“Make someone else do it. Williams-Jones? That boy, you like him, yes?” Yao hesitated, but nodded. Mohammed looked satisfied.

“Good. I will make him do it. You sleep. I will have you woken when the data-chip is fully decoded.”

Knowing that further argument would only exhaust him more, Yao gave in, nodding as he began to walk in the direction of his tent.

* * *

He was woken maybe three hours later, by Elizabeta shaking his shoulder. Trained as a soldier as he was, Yao had pressed a knife against her neck before he realised his mistake, and hurriedly hitched it in his belt once more. The Daernic girl blinked several times, looking a little shocked, before seemingly shaking off the incident and stepping back to let Yao stand. She waved off his apology. Looking around, Yao noted the time, and the rapidly dimming light outside, turning his attention back to Elizabeta only when she spoke.

“The chip’s been completely decoded. The findings are about to be announced.”

The two of them hurried towards the command tent, where Yao could still see people gathering for the meeting. His stomach plunged. He was normally the first one to arrive for meetings such as this. Hassan knew that. Then again, Mohammed probably sent Elizabeta late on purpose, so Yao would sleep for longer. He would have been angrier, had he not known that the General simply had his health in mind. Shaking his head in both exasperation and fondness, Yao parted ways with Elizabeta and slipped through the crowd to get to the front of the room.

Hassan smiled a little guiltily when he met his gaze, but even from this distance, Yao could see that his expression was saturated with gratification as well. Yao rolled his eyes, finding his place shortly before Ailseth, a tall, silver-skinned female Garvich, took the stage. Despite being Garvich, Ailseth held no hatred towards people born as a result of incest. In fact, she had sought refuge with the resistance because she had spoken out about it, and actively freed those slated for execution. She was among their most gifted technicians, and a vitally important member of their cause.

Ailseth cleared her throat, before she held the data-chip aloft and began to speak.

“We received this chip only a few hours ago, from a crew sent to Luna Vilaksa to recover information.” She lowered it. “As many of you know, there is currently a spy within our ranks. This chip contains as much information about them as the Union would dare to digitally store. There is not much, admittedly, but there is enough to help us suitably further our work in identifying and removing the spy.” Ailseth gestured to the screen behind her, which turned on, displaying blueprints for what looked like some sort of communications system.

“This,” she continued, “is a new absorber being used by the Union. It is designed to be small and lightweight. We believe that this absorber has the power to continuously record audio for up to 48 hours at a time.” Low murmuring began in the soldiers assembled, many of them looking shocked and worried.

“Quiet.” Yao said simply, nodding to Ailseth to continue as the whispering died down.

“Since this new form of audio recorder is so small, we believe it may be hard to find by looking visually. It could, honestly, probably be completely hidden underneath someone’s clothes.”

“But won’t that damage the audio recordings?” one Colonel inquired. Ailseth shook her head.

“Considering the capacity and sensitivity of these devices, as evident by the plans, no, it would not.” More whispering broke out, some tinged with a distinct tone of fear.

“Quiet!” Yao said again, louder this time. The noise cut off instantly, with all eyes resting on him for a moment before shifting back to Ailseth.

“Yes, well. We also have determined there is a high chance that this is a sleeper agent. In other words, someone who has been with the resistance for a long time, but has only now been called upon to perform espionage. We estimate that they may have been with the resistance for as long as twelve years, and as few as four. In addition to this, they are using a single-frequency radio to contact the Union, as previously suspected.” Despite this worrying information, the masses stayed silent – prompted to do so by Yao’s stern look.

“This spy is someone of a considerable position. They have been leaking some fairly confidential things. We also have reason to believe that a large amount of this has been done late at night, when most other fighters would be sleeping.”

Cera Bannion scowled. “Treachery of the highest order.” She said grimly. Ailseth nodded slightly before continuing.

“Most of the other things within the chip were our own stolen documents and battle plans. Really,” she shook her head, “It didn’t have much information in it at all.”

Silence fell, and at that moment, Yao knew that everyone was thinking about the ten soldiers who had died to retrieve this information. It seemed, he thought bitterly, that they really died for nothing. As the silence stretched on, Yao felt eyes on him, and finally, when he guessed that he had most of their attention, stood and folded his arms behind his back.

“It might not be much information, but ‘not much’ is a great deal better than nothing at all.” he looked up at Ailseth. “We needed more details to root out this spy. These may be vaguer than what we were hoping for, but they are details nonetheless.” He turned to the team of fatigued technicians, and bowed slightly. “Thank you for your efforts in decoding the chip. We are all grateful.” They nodded, smiling tiredly. He turned to Ailseth. “And thank you for your report.” He turned his gaze to other rebels standing nearby.

“Sripuy, I presume your team will find a way to lock down the confidential documents with higher security?” he nodded eagerly, already clearly thinking of ways it could be done. Yao turned to another Lieutenant. “And your team will find a way to detect audio recorders like these?” the woman nodded, chin tilted proudly.

“We will attempt to decode some of the other files as well.” She stated.

Yao nodded once more. “Considering that we are a group who has consistently achieved the impossible, I fail to see how one spy could shake your faith in yourselves.” A murmuring of light, uplifted voices filled the room. Yao smiled.

“Now, off to bed with you all. It is late, and we will need as much focus as we can get if we are to beat the Union at their latest games.” The room began to empty, though he could see some groups putting their heads together to discuss the meeting. Yao rubbed his eyes. Clearly, his sleep had not been quite long enough to chase the last remnants of fatigue from his body. Resigning himself to an unproductive night, he traipsed out of the tent, aware neither of the furious gaze on his back, nor of the traitors who sent it.


	23. The Strife That Words Can Create

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back, once more, and almost too tired to write this note. Ughhhhhh writer's block is killing me. I still have one unpublished chapter in reserve for this, however, so hopefully I get some inspiration before i feel obligated to update again. 
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- The bounty hunters and pirates have enlisted the help of assassin Vash Zwingli in getting their friends back. They are currently in Bibesti, Rela, planning how to get to Coysash territory on Nyma to free their captive friends.  
> \- Information about the spy in the Resistance has been made public, and details include; they work at night, they wear an audio recorder easily covered by clothes, they have been with the resistance for more than 4 years, etc. Yao fears he is running out of time to expose them.
> 
> NAMES:  
> Zev Batbayaryn: Mongolia  
> Dana Milevski: Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM)  
> Ismeta Disdarevic: Bosnia and Herzegovina  
> Cera Bannion: Ancient Celtic Empire
> 
> Also, woooooooo! 100k words baby!

_Szwicza District,_  
Bibesti, Rela,  
12 th Maarch

There was really no doubt to be had about Vash’s brilliance. That, even Matthias could recognise. In only four days, Vash had created an outline of the path they would need to take through Nyma to get to Coysash territory, collected information needed for fake papers and files, and worked his way through every potential outcome, figuring out a course of action for each one. He was good. Very, very good. For the first time since their friends had been torn from them, Matthias had legitimate hopes that they would actually get them back.

However, the partnership they had formed with the sour assassin was hardly perfect. The blonde had assigned them a set of rules that were to be followed for the entirety of their collaboration together. Matthias had had to write them down in order to remember them all.

  1. Any damage caused to Vash’s belongings or residence was to be paid for in full by the perpetrator.
  2. They were not to mention that they were currently working in tandem with him
  3. Similarly, they were not to disclose the location of his home to any unsavoury figures or law enforcement
  4. They were not allowed to discuss their plans or formulate new ideas outside of his home; all such decisions had to be agreed upon
  5. No yelling was going to be tolerated in Vash’s home
  6. They were not allowed to associate with or involve themselves with Vash’s neighbours



The last one in particular had struck Matthias as odd. Upon inquiring further into the matter, Vash’s expression had darkened slightly, and he had simply responded. “They’re young. I wouldn’t want them near people like you.” Matthias had been sorely tempted to mention that Vash, as an assassin, was worse than any pirate or bounty hunter, but had simply dropped the matter. Though not mentioned by Vash, there was one more rule which the thirteen of them followed without question or complaint.

  1. To insult Vash is to sign your own death warrant. Avoid it at all costs.



Nonetheless, following the rules, though sensible, was starting to annoy Matthias. Considering how much money they would be giving this guy to help them save their friends, one would think he could be a little more civil. The assassin had a penchant for (literally) throwing people outside if they annoyed him too much, or even if he got sick of seeing their face. For one of the most infamous and brutal killers in the Falloweil System, he sure could be very intolerant of certain things.

Matthias could tell he wasn’t the only person becoming impatient with the assassin’s behaviour. Vash was standoffish to a fault, and his tendency to control the conversation and demand certain things was wearing some of the others down. Arthur constantly began to curse him the moment they left the building, and Natalya was often not far behind. The rules they had to follow were annoying as well. If Vash threw them out, they could sometimes be stuck there for hours, unable to get back in, yet also apparently unable to ask any of Vash’s neighbours for help.

Despite his many flaws, however, Vash was brilliant, and their plan to get to the rebels was quickly taking shape. He moved along planning with such speed that they had reached the point of refining their plan. The major details had already been worked out. Really, if Matthias didn’t already know that Vash was an assassin, he might have guessed from his brutal efficiency.

Matthias stared at the map of Coysash territory that was spread across the table. Pencil marks, ink, pins and markers were all over the surface, indicating their path, as well as any potential difficulties they may encounter there. His eyes skimmed over some of the writing that hugged the shape of a mountain range. _Home to vicious Vaaksi mountain tribes. Avoid interaction._ He shuddered. Even though he knew little about Nyma compared to other places, he had heard enough of the Vaaksi tribes. Some were large, some were small. Some were cannibalistic, others worshipped death. All were horrifying, and to be evaded. Vash had glossed over those details a bit, but hopefully, they shouldn’t need any details of them.

He looked up as he heard shouting. Wonderful. Arthur had managed to get into a fight with Francis. Again. Sighing as he recognised the now familiar look in Vash’s eyes as he walked toward them, Matthias moved to open the door. Might as well ease the process.

* * *

Sadik scowled as he heard Vash’s door open again, followed by a muffled shout and a great deal of cursing. These guests of the blonde’s had been here for days, and were far more disruptive than he thought the man would tolerate. He had taken to throwing them out of his apartment whenever any of them did something he didn’t like. To say the least, it was getting on Sadik’s nerves.

He already disliked the blonde man. His intervention between him and Lovino, Sadik told himself that he appreciated. He didn’t want to hurt Lovino, after all. But there was a part of him – a dark, bitter part which he shoved as far down inside as he could – that wished he hadn’t. He knew it was wrong to wish such a thing, but he felt like he almost couldn’t help it sometimes. But that wasn’t even what frustrated him. The man had an air of superiority about him. Sadik knew he was a strong and capable assassin, and he worried about his motives.

In addition to that, Sadik hadn’t failed to notice how much time Vash seemed to be spending with Lovino and Feliciano now. He would have worried only about his reasons for having such proximity with the brothers, had he not noted the way that Vash’s eyes lingered on Lovino sometimes. Sadik had been wrong to get so drunk and then place himself in a situation with Lovino, but he could hardly believe Vash’s hypocrisy. He had the sheer audacity to threaten Sadik for touching Lovino, yet looked at him in such a desire-ridden way? It made Sadik grind his teeth together.

True, the age difference between Vash and Lovino was much smaller than the one between Lovino and Sadik, but it still grated on his nerves. Sadik himself hadn’t been able to see them recently, and the fact that Vash likely spent more time with them nowadays had really started to get to him. He shook his head. Dwelling on such things wouldn’t help him in any way. he could hear an argument brewing outside, and rolled his eyes. Though he had counted as many as thirteen different people going to and from Vash’s apartment, these voices were the most familiar. They belonged to two young men, whose voices almost always seemed to be at their highest possible volume. A great number of insults were thrown freely between the pair, and it often amused Sadik to listen to whatever curses they managed to come up with.

Today was no different, and he smirked as he bent towards the door to catch their conversation.

* * *

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,  
15 th Maarch

Yao shakily drew a breath. Unbelievable, he thought, staring at the small audio recording system which sat before him. Octavia’s expression was beyond infuriating, a victorious smirk directed both at Yao himself in addition to the Commander being restrained by guards in front of him. He felt like a severe blow had been dealt to his gut, and he turned his head away slightly, feeling nauseous.

“It’s not mine! I swear it isn’t! Someone planted it in my quarters!” Commander Dana Milevski struggled fiercely against the guards holding her arms. She looked at Yao desperately. “Please, Yao, you know I would never–”

“Be silent!” Octavia barked at her, expression now more serious. “How dare you presume to speak to our leader? After you have deceived him in such a way? Filthy traitor.”

Dana reeled back as though she had been slapped, eyes wide and horrified. Normally, she was quite a well-put together young woman. She looked as she almost always did; dressed as she in a sleeveless blue shirt and dark pants. Her faintly olive skin dotted with a few freckles from days out in the sun, her dark brown eyes bloodshot from long hours, and her dark hair neatly clipped in it’s short style. But her face was pale, her hair messed up from struggling against the guards holding her, her expression twisted in agony. So familiar, and yet, all of a sudden, so very foreign.

“I’m not a traitor! I swear, the only time I’ve seen a recorder like that is in the blueprints we were shown! It doesn’t belong to me!” Octavia scoffed, shaking her head in something akin to disgust.

“Do not attempt to poison our minds any further. You have been caught red-handed. You should at least have the dignity and decency to admit to your crimes.”

“But they _aren’t_ my crimes! I am loyal to this movement! I always have been!” Dana cried, tears running down her cheeks now. “You have to understand! I’m not guilty!” Octavia scowled.

“You shall accordingly be executed for your crimes, know this, traitor.” She hissed. Dana staggered back like she had been physically shoved, face turning grey.

“No,” she whispered, falling to her knees, “I can’t, no, I, I didn’t, please–”

“She will be afforded a trial first, Octavia.” Yao murmured, breaking the silence which he had held since Dana had first been hauled inside and charged with espionage. “It is customary.” Dana turned to him, face alight with hope. He stared back, expressionless. Her features crumpled, and she turned her face downwards, recognising the anger lightly etched into his expression.

But whether that anger was at Dana’s alleged treachery, or in fact at Octavia’s delight at finding the culprit was someone pledged in loyalty to Yao, he could not yet tell. A light tremor passed through his hands, and he folded his arms behind his back, surveying Dana and Octavia. As happy as catching Union rats made Octavia, it made her far happier to deal a blow to the confidence that people had in Yao and his leadership.

Dana Milevski. Iramese pilot, personal proclaimed rival of Heracles Karpusi and living bundle of wit. She had joined the resistance four years ago, when she was about 15 years old. She had lived in a small village called Byńsłoca. The Iramese people were a minority group on Nyma, far lighter-skinned that the Nymian majority. As such, they tended to be overlooked by major tribal groups. The long-lasting war between the Coysash and Mugarobe peoples had had a massive negative impact on the Iramese. Since a large number of them lived in the valleylands which lined the heavily disputed Katye’s Plain, they had suffered heavy losses from all of the combat.

Byńsłoca was a particularly famous casualty. It had been the subject of an investigation after reports of human rights violations. The Nymian High Committee for Civil and Human Rights (the NHCCHR for those who appreciated acronyms) had travelled to the village to investigate what had been occurring there. All had seemed to be well at first. Death and injury from combat were expected, especially given the area and circumstances. The committee’s delegation had received an anonymous tip off that many of the village’s civilians had been placed inside the old city hall to protect them. So, deciding to follow the tip-off, the delegation travelled there.

What they ended up finding was 500 people chained to the ground, many of them dead from starvation or exhaustion. Most of the dead were in a fairly advanced state of decomposition. Reports of the delegation’s findings stated that many of those still alive, chained and emaciated as they sat between piles of rotting flesh, were children. The delegation had also determined that there was no way that the Mugarobe people (until then the prime suspects) could have committed such a horrendous crime. After asking the victims for their reports on what happened, they discovered that the Mugarobe were in fact innocent.

The perpetrators? A group of Union soldiers who had gone AWOL. With their superior weaponry, they had forced the already decimated village into submission, robbing and raping until they were satisfied. They had imprisoned the remaining villagers in their own hall, and left them all for dead. The rebels, who had only really just completed settling into life on Nyma, had travelled to Byńsłoca to help the injured and dying villagers. Many of them, imbibed with a new and ferocious hatred of the Union, had joined their ranks as soon as they were physically fit again. Dana Milevski had been among them.

So, these allegations that she had been a spy for the Union all along? Yao privately thought they were ridiculous. He kept his expression neutral, bordering on apathetic when he ordered the guards to restrain Dana and take her to a holding cell to await a trial. He turned his face away as she was taken from the tent, and yanked the fabric openings shut when he spotted the large number of people gathered outside, murmuring in curiosity. Octavia seemed to be watching him closely, and he raised an eyebrow slightly, before he sat and began to flick through the stack of files which greeted him there.

“I expect for a committee to be put together to evaluate Milevski’s case. Go over the evidence and see if a legitimate case can be brought against her for espionage and treason.” He looked up when his statements were met with silence. Octavia was watching him again. “Is there a problem?”

Octavia smirked slightly. “Just…observing you.” Yao smiled ruefully.

“I am flattered by the attention, Vice-General Papadopoulos, but it is a matter of importance.” Even gazing at the files in his hands again, he could almost hear her eye-roll.

“You do not seem to be overly concerned about Milevski’s potential as a spy.” She said, voice soft and laced with danger. “I’d say you even look relieved.” Sensing the challenge, Yao met her gaze again.

“I am relieved only that we may now have found our troublesome little spy. Ending their leak of information and protecting our soldiers is what matters to me.” Octavia narrowed her eyes, before turning on her heel and stalking from the tent, pausing near the exit.

“We shall see in due course, won’t we?”

* * *

Considering the waves of shock that Dana’s imprisonment and supposed crimes sent throughout the rebellion that afternoon, Octavia was sincerely surprised that it took Ismeta so long. She was walking with Zev Batbayaryn at the time, discussing the newly decoded files on their spy, when Ismeta appeared on the horizon. The girl stormed directly up to her, fury etched into her face so deep that Octavia feared the girl’s face would permanently appear that way. She threw her long, partially braided hair over her shoulder as she stalked toward the Vice-General, eyes burning with bloody murder.

“What the fuck?” she spat, sounding as livid as she looked. “You fucking arrested Dana? What the hell is wrong with all of you?” Octavia didn’t react to her sharp words, nor the fury in her face. She surveyed the incensed teenager calmly, raising a hand to simply comb a lock of her hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear. Her lack of response seemed to anger Ismeta further, and she moved ever closer. “Answer me!”

“Miss Disdarevic,” Octavia began dispassionately, “calm yourself down.” She waited a moment, watching the girl as she tamed her rage with clear difficulty, schooling her expression into one of unsettled frustration as she took a step backwards. Octavia waited another moment before beginning to explain. “As high-ranked officials, we are responsible for making sure that this movement remains safe. We enjoy the rare liberty of being able to enforce our will in order to make that happen.” She levelled an impressive stare at Ismeta. The girl was unable to hold eye contact, looking away after a moment.

“As I’m sure you are aware, we are currently making efforts to remove a suspected spy from our ranks. As part of this process, we are keeping our minds open to the possibility that this traitor may be anyone, of any status or ethnicity. Miss Milevski’s arrest may be the first, but it will not necessarily be the last. It is entirely possible that she was, in fact, framed as she says, and is completely innocent. Or,” here she paused for a moment, “it is possible that she is a skilled actress whom has been deceiving us for years. We must consider all possibilities.”

“I know that,” Ismeta muttered darkly, “but I swear it isn’t Dana! She would never! We both hate the Union. And she’s my friend, I trust her.” Octavia shrugged.

“It was Yao who gave the order for her to be imprisoned, not me.” She stated. “I did indicate, indeed, that should she be guilty, she would be subjected to immediate execution, but I did not command her imprisonment.” Ismeta’s eyes glittered, and she looked as though a flame of hope had been lit deep within.

“I’ll just talk to Yao then!” she exclaimed. “He’ll listen to me, I know he will.” Octavia sighed.

“Yao is busy, Miss Disdarevic. I doubt he would be able to make the time. Besides,” she sighed, “we have very differed opinions on how the matter of the leak should be addressed. I personally think my own proposed approach serves Miss Milevski better.” Ismeta paused at this, happy expression slowly melting from her face.

“How so?”

“I proposed that only those of planets confirmed to have strong Union ties be investigated. Yao, being as he is, insisted that all soldiers be tested, no matter their heritage. Which means, of course…”

“That Dana wouldn’t even have been investigated if your idea had been carried out.” Ismeta finished, eyes now burning with something sharp that resembled bitterness. Octavia nodded.

“That is the sad truth of it. I do not believe that anyone who has suffered such cruel punishment at the hands of the Union as Dana has would ever take their side. Yao is more wary. He believes that anyone has the capacity to commit treason.”

“But after Byńsłoca!” Ismeta exclaimed. Octavia cut her off with a sad nod.

“I agree, but Yao does not.” She said, more gently this time. “Of course, I have an idea of why this is.” Ismeta stared.

“Why?”

“Well, Yao himself is Yanish, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Ismeta nodded, and Octavia didn’t miss the brief, but definite flash of discomfort that crossed over her face. “Well Yan would be the first planet to be investigated. Others like Reycass and Xexei would follow. I’m sure that he would not feel comfortable being among the first to be investigated.”

“But why would he be uncomfortable if he’s completely innocent too?” Ismeta blurted out, expression tight with frustration again. Octavia pursed her lips.

“Ismeta, do you remember what sort of details were given about our apparent spy? Those collected from the information in the canister?” the girl frowned as she struggled to recollect it.

“That they must be wearing audio recorders on their bodies. Powerful ones, which can be worn underneath clothes. Uhh,” she trailed off as she racked her brain for more details, “they will have been with the resistance for at least four years. Umm…” Ismeta snapped her fingers suddenly. “Oh! They have to be good with technology, since they apparently have a single frequency radio. And they send stolen information at night, apparently.” She frowned at the end, brow relaxing when Octavia nodded.

“Can you think of anyone who fits that description? Who may also hold the power to access confidential files, and control how the vetting process works, potentially to buy themselves more time?” Ismeta looked bemused for a second, before her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. Her hands flew to her lips, face whitening.

“You– you don’t really– no, it can’t, I won’t–” Octavia waved her hands in a clear _shut up_ motion.

“I was only posing a simple question.” Octavia said. “Whatever conclusions you have drawn from that are your own, though,” she paused, “I must say I have considered many possible theories of my own, and I guarantee the one which has just come to your mind would have been among them.” Ismeta still looked like she was in a state of shock.

“But, I mean. Vice-General,” she lowered her voice, “you cannot seriously think that—”

“I am prepared to keep my mind open to all possibilities.” Octavia replied. “It does no good to let your mind linger on mere conspiracies.” She was silent for a moment, considering the sun as it sunk lower beneath the horizon. “However, I will say this on the possibility. Six years ago, when the Resistance found itself without a leader, we did not select our new one as we usually did. Of course, most leaders leave behind some mention of who they personally recommend for the job, but Arshad Teymouri was no conformist to tradition. We selected our new leader through a popular vote.” She paused again. “And let me say this, popularity is not fixed. It fluctuates, depending on circumstance, mood and situation. What may have been suitable, or considered to be suitable six years ago, may not apply the same way today.” Ismeta was silent beside her.

“But, I mean, he’s always seemed like such a good person. The mere possibility seems insane.” Octavia met her eyes.

“Have doubt in everything, and you will be able to predict anything.” She recited. Ismeta bowed her head slightly. Yao said it constantly. “From day one, his motto. Would doubting everything not include Yao himself?” Octavia gave Ismeta a soft smile. “Having doubts does not make you a traitor, it lends you intelligence and depth. I will not claim that what we have just discussed is the truth in any measure, but keep your mind open, Ismeta. Doubt everything, as our besieged leader likes to say. I promise, if Miss Milevski is found innocent, she will be released immediately.” Ismeta nodded, still looking shellshocked. Saluting in farewell, Octavia parted with the girl, joining Zev as he gazed at her with interest.

“She’s an intelligent young one, isn’t she?” he murmured. “I was half-expecting her to connect the dots even more.” Octavia raised an eyebrow even further.

“Oh? And what dots have _you_ been connecting, Zev?” he tossed his dark hair back.

“I was considering that, if Dana Milevski is guilty, it only fuels suspicion against Yao even more. I mean, Milevski is very loyal to him, is she not? It would be only to easy to use her as a tool of sorts, or even as a scapegoat, to divert attention.” Octavia paused. She had thought about it, but had not dared to vocalise her thoughts. They verged a lot more on mutinous than she was entirely comfortable with. But that was part of the reason why she liked Batbayaryn so much. His sharp mind helped to complement and enhance her own ideas. She tilted her head to the side, rather uncommittedly.

“That is…certainly a possibility, Zev.”

* * *

Ah, distrust. The air hung thick with it that afternoon.

Arresting Dana Milevski seemed to have garnered a contingent of vexed young rebels. And a large amount of their anger seemed to be directed at him. He understood the sentiment, of course, he had ordered her to be detained after her alleged treachery was aired to the council. Yet Yao was not troubled by the simmering atmosphere of anger and righteous indignation which arisen on Dana’s behalf.

Even Matthew, who normally did not question Yao’s decisions, had approached him with the same question on his lips. _Why would you arrest her?_ He had asked. _We both know that she would never spy for the Union._

 _I am aware_ , Yao had replied, _I’m not under any illusion which would convince me otherwise. Oh no, Dana Milevski is completely innocent. If all goes as hoped, she should be free within the next two weeks._

Matthew had frowned then. _But why keep her in chains when you know the truth?_ He had asked. Yao remembered how he had tugged the cuffs of his gloves upwards then, gazing out into the middle distance.

 _It’s a game of sorts_. He had finally responded. _We are fighting a war with this Union spy, and this is the latest battle between us. Right now, we need this spy to believe that this is a battle that they have won. What do you think people are going to do and think when I allow Dana Milevski be thrown into prison?_

Matthew had looked stumped for a moment, before he had started to think. _Well_ , he had said, _they’ll never believe Dana is actually the spy, for one. They might think that you aren’t making any progress._

 _Yes, that’s right_ , Yao had answered, _the bright thinkers may dwell briefly on my inability to find the real spy, and may believe that I am reluctant to uncover their identity, or, in fact, be investigated myself. It is well known that I am Yanish, is it not? It is far more likely that I would be seen as an enemy by rebel fighters than anyone else._

When Matthew had tried to argue that point, a vaguely irritated expression on his face – no doubt annoyance at those colleagues of his who were uncomfortable around Yao for said reason, Yao had merely waved him off. _I am used to such treatment, Matthew, do not concern yourself over it. But, tell me, what do you think those strategists among us will see Dana Milevski’s imprisonment as?_

Matthew had looked completely baffled for a moment. Yao remembered how he had smirked at him. _Come now, Matthew, you have one of our best strategic minds, you know what they will think._

 _Well_ , Matthew had said slowly, _since she is such a ridiculous person to charge with treason…it may lead some to believe that she is being used in a way. As a scapegoat of sorts, that is. If you don’t find the real spy soon, people will become frustrated, both in part from genuine concern over information leaks, and Dana being done injustice_. He paused, eyes widening. _But if you hadn’t had her imprisoned, it immediately would have enthused suspicion on the grounds that you weren’t suspecting someone despite physical evidence. Since she has always been a loyal supporter of yours, some might interpret it as favouritism, though they’re smart enough to know that you wouldn’t tolerate espionage._ Matthew had audibly gasped. _Which means_ …

 _That either way, suspicion would have slowly been placed on me_ , Yao had finished for him. _If I kept Dana imprisoned, she would be seen as a scapegoat whose case was being deliberately delayed. If I didn’t have her arrested, I would be appearing to disregard potential evidence, unless, of course, I had a part in said espionage, and was keeping Dana under the radar to keep information of such restricted, and therefore, less accessible and less well-known._

Matthew had been silent for a long while, looking like he was struggling to take it all in. _But that, that’s just…_

 _That is a tactic drawn from the mind of a strategist who is just as, if not more, skilled than yourself._ Yao had said. _It means that this spy isn’t just selling off information, they’re actively trying to sow dissent and distrust. Their aim isn’t just disadvantage. It’s complete downfall._

 _Scary to think about_ , Matthew had said, chuckling weakly. Yao had simply nodded, and the two had parted ways not long after.

It was beyond scary. It was terrifying. The only thing which Yao’s afternoon musings had served to accomplish was cutting down his suspect list enormously. Anyone who had intelligence of that calibre, well, there were many rebels who did not possess it, to put it more kindly. He was quickly gathering a more detailed profile of what sort of person this spy was. He could only hope that it ended up leading in an actual arrest.

Yao sighed, leaning back as he rinsed his hair again. Washing himself was always complicated, as he did not use the showering blocks. He tended to do so in a more medieval way, using water and washers in his own tent. His hair was often a difficult part of the process. Being as long as it was (reaching the bottom of his ribcage when out) it was always difficult to wash, especially when not in a normal shower. At least here, in his tent, he could wear as few clothes as possible, so as to not get too many of them drenched. He didn’t need his gloves, which made washing his hair a little easier. He normally filled a deep basin with water and washed it while leaning back, like hairdressers used to do in Beizaning.

Combing it out and unknotting several tangles, Yao took up a pair of scissors. He knew that cutting his own hair was inadvisable, but considering the travesty which had been made of his hands and body on the Arbiter, he didn’t particularly care how straight the tips of his hair were. He cut it a little longer than he wanted it, and then just easily evened off the edge as much as he cared to do. Nodding with satisfaction at his reflection in the small, age-spotted mirror he had leaning on a table leg, he cleaned loose hair off himself, and rinsed his head again before drying it ruthlessly with a towel. Then came the delightful task of scouring the floor for all last pieces of hair to throw away.

Finally done with his task, Yao sunk back down to sit on the floor, resting his head on the edge of his bed and closing his eyes briefly. Worry after worry swam through his mind. He could feel his breathing speeding up, and his muscles locking together, even as he desperately tried to calm himself down. A crushing weight seemed to descend upon his lungs, as he allowed the feeling of soul-razing terror and dread coat his skin and caress his thoughts. Nausea stirred his stomach into a vicious ocean storm as he forced his eyes open again. His gaze shifted around the room, settling finally on a light from his Cell, slowly flashing. He focused on it, pinned all of his energy and attention on the small light as he waited for the panic attack to subside.

When he finally found himself able to breathe normally again, he sighed, running his hand through his shorter hair, shuddering. It had been a while since he had allowed himself to get so overwhelmed by his emotions. He pressed his hands to his face, struggling to drag his thoughts into a more positive light. He should be out, doing nightly duties and helping the other rebels.

But he couldn’t bring himself to move, despite knowing that he should be doing his job.

And Lukas, who had been frozen outside the tent since he’d first felt the avalanche of panic from the other man, didn’t go inside, despite knowing that he should be trying to act as a comforter. Instead, he withdrew silently, retreating as he tried to quell the sense of impending doom which seemed to now follow his very footsteps. 


	24. A Revelation Worth Fearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am so sorry for the delay on this! Thank you all for your lovely comments while I was gone. They really helped me out! I'm still doing exams right now, so the next update may also be a while away, but I thought that you guys deserved this!
> 
> RECAP (lol I don't even remember):  
> \- The bounty hunters + pirates are planning with Vash how to get to Nyma and free their friends  
> \- Lovino and Feliciano are still chilling in Bibesti  
> \- Gilbert, Tori, Roderich and Feliks are STILL prisoners  
> \- Young Dana Milevski has been framed by the spy in the resistance. Yao's leadership, as well as his loyalty, is beginning to be questioned.  
> \- Lukas was an awkward child who saw someone who was upset and said 'lol nope' (sounds like me honestly)
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> language (what a surprise)
> 
> Please comment! Your feedback gives me life!!!!

_Szwicza District,_  
Bibesti, Rela,  
17th Maarch

Lovino was woken by a very loud, and very happy, scream. He sat bolt upright, so fast that he almost brained himself on the rafters of the bunk bed above his. Looking around wildly, he barely had time to process the fact that it was still dark outside, when Feliciano had thrown himself on top of his brother, effectively knocking all of the air out of him. Struggling for a moment, Lovino barely managed to wheeze out.

“What’s happening?” Feliciano sat back a little, bouncing up and down on Lovino’s leg’s, careful to avoid the wooden frame of the bed above, a manic grin stretched across his face. Blinking in shock, Lovino leaned back, eager to avoid whatever freaky shit his brother seemed so happy about.

“Happy Birthday!” Feliciano exclaimed, clapping his hands together in delight. Lovino sagged against the mattress, groaning when the words registered. His eyes darted over to the clock.

“Did you seriously wake me at 4am just to tell me that?” he grumbled. Feliciano giggled.

“Sorry Lovi, I just couldn’t wait any longer!” He said cheerily. Lovino grunted in reply, shoving Feliciano (gently) off his legs when he felt pins and needles start to course up them. Feliciano shuffled backwards on the mattress, still smiling happily despite the early hour as he let his brother sit up. Knowing that Feliciano was unlikely to let him fall asleep now, he sat up properly, rubbing his eyes and pushing his hair back from his face. Noting the grin on Feliciano’s face, he sighed.

“Oh, what is it?”

Feliciano smiled, before gracefully stretching upwards to grab something from his bunk, handing three small packages to Lovino. He blinked in surprise. Normally, on their birthdays, they didn’t really get each other gifts. The truth was, they were never really able to afford it. From this, cooking had arisen as a substitute. Lovino usually would pick up a few extra shifts at whatever odd job he was working, so that he could afford ingredients. Normally, he made Feliciano’s favourite foods, along with some sort of cake or sweet pastry if he had the money to spare. He had never been bothered if Feliciano wasn’t able to get him something.

He distinctly remembered one birthday of his where Feliciano had taught himself how to make a cinnamon cake to give to Lovino. Unfortunately, though, Feli had fallen asleep while the cake was in the oven, and it had emerged resembling charcoal. Lovino had simply laughed, thanked Feliciano for his effort, and treated them both to junk food.  

Lovino turned the packages over in his hands. “Feli, you really didn’t have to get me anything.” He said, feeling guilty over his brother spending so much money on him. Feliciano simply shook his head stubbornly.

“Nope. This birthday is special, so no give-backs!” he declared. Lovino was stumped for a moment, before he remembered.

Several birthdays on Syhvva were considered significant. Obviously, a person’s first birthday was special, as was their tenth, since it symbolised the first decade of their life. 14 was another significant year, as it marked the average start of adolescence. Though the age to drink on Syhvva, as well as drive, was 16, the age of maturity and independence was considered 20. Often in the past, 20 was the age at which new monarchs were coronated. In the past few decades, the age seemed to move a little later, to about 22 or 23, but it was still a significant milestone. But how had Feliciano known that?

Responding the inquisitive look on Lovino’s face, Feliciano grinned, looking quite proud of himself. “I was reading about birth and age customs, and I found out how important 20 is. so, I decided that I had to get something.” Lovino sighed again, but couldn’t quite manage to suppress the grin taking over his face as he picked up the first of the three packages. All three were wrapped simply in what Lovino could now see were recycled pages from old newspapers, and tied with string. Smiling at the extravagant bows and knots Feliciano had tied them shut with, Lovino slowly began to unwrap the first of the three.

His efforts rendered a book written in Syhvvanian. Turning it over, Lovino grinned when he noted the title; An Inclusive Summary of the Syhvvanian _Rigelo_.

“How the hell did you manage to find this?” he asked, sounding awed as he flipped through the pages, detailing both scientific and historical instances of the gifts possessed by the Vargas family. He felt his smile widen when he skimmed over the title on one page, ‘Maritia the Inferni’. He had heard plenty about that particular ancestor of theirs. He made eye contact with Feliciano again, who looked delighted that Lovino liked it.

“Well, it was hard,” he said, sounding rather proud of himself, “I had to travel all over Bibesti to even find somewhere with Syhvvanian texts before I found a small shop which was willing to sell them. They’re so hard to find, honestly, the owner even threatened me about not telling people.” Feliciano frowned. “Now that I think about it, I think I went shopping in the black market.” Lovino laughed.

“Well thank you,” he said sincerely, “I’ll have to read it. Who knows? Maybe it’ll help me teach you to use your gifts.” Feliciano beamed at the very suggestion, picking up another package before Lovino could even look at them, handing it to him while he turned the third over in his own hands.

Raising an eyebrow, Lovino began to unwrap the second, smile returning to his face in full force when he pulled a wool cap and fingerless grey gloves from inside.

“You mentioned that you needed them, so…” Feliciano blurted out, trailing off awkwardly. Lovino laughed at the slightly worried expression on his face, and waved dismissively.

“I certainly did, thanks.” He said, grinning as he tried on the gloves. They were soft, and definitely of a far higher quality than his poor, degenerate ass was used to. He raised an eyebrow. “Though I could have lived with less expensive ones. God, Feli, how much did they cost?” Feliciano shook his head.

“Nope! Not telling!” he declared. Lovino sighed in defeat, setting them beside him with his new book. He noted that Feliciano had suddenly gone a little quiet. He was turning the package in his hands around, biting his lip before he finally handed it to Lovino, avoiding eye contact. He accepted it, unwrapping it a little more slowly than the last two.

A small, black box fell into his hands. Blinking in surprise, Lovino scooped it into his hands and opened it, eyes widening to the size of saucers when he saw what was inside. Feliciano began stammering out an explanation.

“I, I read that it was tradition to get one from your family on your tenth birthday, but since you didn’t have yours on Syhvva, you never got one, so I guessed that…you might like one now?” he almost winced. “Is it okay?”

Lovino was almost speechless as he pulled the pendant from the box. It had a rather long chain, to the point that the pendant on the end would rest just above his belly button. The pendant itself was an oval shape, about the size of a date fruit. It was flat and smooth on one side, and the other was warped to curve outwards slightly. The surface of the curved side shimmered almost like water. The whole thing was made of rose gold, the metal used traditionally as a ceremonial and decorative symbol on Syhvva. He stared at it, silently placing it around his own neck and running his fingers over the cold surface for a moment before he very nearly crushed Feliciano in a tight hug. His younger brother let out a small squeak of surprise, but reciprocated the hug within seconds.

“So…you like it?” Feliciano asked uncertainly.

“Yes, I like it.” Lovino murmured, ignoring how his voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. Feliciano’s arms tightened around him, indicating that he had heard it. They stayed like that for a moment before reluctantly drawing away from each other’s warmth. Feliciano grinned, kissing his older brother on either cheek. Lovino let out a grunting noise and wrinkled his nose at him.

“What was that for?” he demanded. Feliciano grinned.

“Good luck?” he teased. Lovino rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless as he dragged himself out of bed, stretching as Feliciano followed his example.

“Well, I guess I won’t be able to properly sleep now, will I?” he groaned, slumping a little as he rubbed his eyes. Feliciano grinned, not looking even a little bit guilty. Lovino smiled. “Now, are you up for Takedi’s for breakfast?” Feliciano stood a little straighter, looking at his brother blearily.

“But Takedi’s is all the way over in the Calmas District.” He complained. “Not to mention that it’s all deep-fried junk food.” Lovino shot him a look.

“My birthday, my rules. Besides, you were the one who decided to wake me up at 4am. If I had been allowed to sleep a little longer, I might be more reasonable in my dining choices. Come on, get some proper clothes on.” Feliciano rolled his eyes, but grinned as he complied.

In truth, between the gift-giving and the half-hour it took a sleepy Lovino to find something to wear out other than his pyjama pants, they left their apartment closer to 5am. The city had begun to stir by this point, and they made sure to walk clear of any alleys where they could still potentially be jumped. Lovino’s eyes danced around the streets as he saw early-morning vendors begin to set up their market stalls, their various wares appearing on the tabletops. They slowed when they saw this, approaching the weary vendors cautiously.

Feliciano insisted on using some spare coins he found in his pockets to buy them both cinnamon pastries, though Lovino made sure he didn’t eat it before they got to their location. The pair joked and chatted while they walked, with Feliciano grinning in relief when the boundaries of the Szwicza District came into view. Calmas was similarly disparaged, but slightly cleaner, and Feliciano gasped in delight when he saw the front of Takedi’s, empty for once but undeniably open.

The small café smelled of crumbed meat and strong coffee (as it normally did). A roughly dressed but clean Garvich lazily greeted them from behind the counter. Seeing as they actually had a significant amount of money to spare, they went (by their standards) verifiably wild, ordering most of their favourite small dishes, as well as several to take with them. Feliciano made the suggestion of taking some to Vash and the clientele he was dealing with currently, and Lovino agreed begrudgingly. He was happy enough to buy food for Vash, though he knew very little of the group buying out his services right now, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to or not. All he knew about them was that there were two among their ranks who got thrown out of Vash’s apartment fairly regularly. At least, Lovino reflected, they would be leaving soon, if Vash was to be believed.

Feliciano clapped his hands in delight as their food arrived, almost diving onto it in his joy. Lovino grinned at his brother, trying to turn his attention from Vash’s clients. He had just about succeeded, and was engaging his brother in a conversation about the theoretical possibility of them getting a cat (which was low, admittedly), when his Cell vibrated. Frowning, he pulled it from his jacket pocket. A glimpse at the screen showed that it was an update from the Index, not a message, which had alerted him. He stiffened. He only had notifications set for two profiles in the whole Index; Feliciano’s and his own.

Feli noticed the sudden tension in his shoulders and expression, and the smile slipped from his face as he leant forward, frowning.

“What is it?” he muttered as Lovino tapped the screen to see the new updates, almost dropping the device when his profile showed up. He swallowed thickly. Since the last time he had checked, the Union had obviously added a lot more details.

 

> _**FULL NAME** :                   
> Lovino Daniele Mattia Vargas_
> 
> _**BIRTHDATE:**                    
> 17TH Maarch, 4492CC_
> 
> _**AGE:**                               
>  20_
> 
> _**GENDER:**                        
>  Male_
> 
> _**ETHNICITY:**                    
>  Syhvvanian_
> 
> _**HEIGHT:**                         
>  Between 5’7’’ and 5’10’’ (genetic estmation only)_
> 
> _**PHYSICAL TRAITS** :         
> Ethnically consistent red hair, believed to be of a generally dark hue. Eyes reportedly lighter in colour, golden or brown. Ethnically consistent olive toned skin._
> 
> _**PLANET OF ORIGIN** :      
> Syhhva_
> 
> _**STATUS:**                         
>  Crown Prince of Syhvva. Presumed to be alive. Last sightings believed to be on Incanda. Likely travelling with younger brother, Feliciano Vargas._
> 
> _**MONETARY BOND** :       
>  **60,000,000,000**  |MK| (60 Billion Standard Marks*)_
> 
> _**NOTES:**                           
> Wanted for reasons of involvement with terrorist cells and incitement of rebellion in the Saijani Republic of Syhhva. Height is projected, based on genetic estimation, and thus may be inaccurate. The photos provided are; first, an official photograph from 4498CC, at which point the subject was 6 years of age, and second, a computer-generated image derived from DNA analysis, and is thus only a suggestion as to the subject’s appearance.   
> Monetary bond/’bounty’ is current as of the 16th of Maarch, 4512CC_
> 
> _*Amount may vary depending on current exchange rates_
> 
>  

“Lovi, I don’t know if you noticed, but…the bounty.” Lovino frowned, looking up. He had been so absorbed in the photo thing, and the fact that they had already updated his age, that his eyes had skimmed right over the bounty section. Feliciano turned the screen toward him silently. His gaze honed in on the number, and he felt his hands begin to shake. It had risen by another 10 billion marks. _60 billion_ …God, as if he wasn’t sought after enough already.  
Below that was what he presumed was the computer-generated image. It…was close. Frighteningly so. Not so close that someone would look from the image to him and immediately connect the two, but it was much more accurate than their estimations had been in the past. His stomach dropped, and he silently offered the cell to Feliciano, whose read over it silently, eyes widening in horror. He gripped his older brother’s arm.

“It’s because I’m twenty now, likely.” He murmured. “Now I can legally be king.” Feliciano continued to tap away at the screen, freezing after a moment.

“That might be it, but…” Feliciano showed him the screen again, this time displaying the profile of the Crown Prince of Fynkn. Lovino frowned, bending his neck down to read. __  
  


> _**FULL NAME** :                   
> Lukas Aleksandr Bondevik_
> 
> _**BIRTHDATE:**                    
> 17th Maii, 4493CC_
> 
> _**AGE:**                               
>  18_
> 
> _**GENDER:**                        
>  Male_
> 
> _**ETHNICITY:**                    
>  Fynknian_
> 
> _**HEIGHT:**                         
>  Between 5’6’’ and 5’11’’ (genetic estimation only)_
> 
> _**PHYSICAL TRAITS** :         
> White blond/silvery hair, as is genetically consistent. Fair skin, dark blue eyes. Left eye reportedly contains a small imperfection. This is uncited and unconfirmed._
> 
> _**PLANET OF ORIGIN** :      
> Fynkn_
> 
> _**STATUS:**                         
>  Crown Prince of Fynkn. Presumed to be alive. Last sightings believed to be in Duvar, Pyndaph, in late 4505CC._
> 
> _**MONETARY BOND** :       
>  **55,000,000,000**  |MK| (55 Billion Standard Marks*)_
> 
> _**NOTES:**                           
> Monetary bond/’bounty’ is current as of the 16th of Maarch, 4512CC. Wanted for reasons of involvement with terrorist cells and incitement of rebellion in the Saijani Republic of Fynkn. Height is projected, based on genetic estimation, and thus may be inaccurate. The photo provided was taken in 4501CC, at which point the subject was 8 years of age._
> 
> _*Amount may vary depending on current exchange rates_

 

There was no computer-generated image for the lucky Bondevik, but Lovino quickly realised what Feliciano was trying to draw his attention to. Monetary bond…55 billion marks?

Admittedly, Lovino had not paid quite so much attention to the profiles of the other three AWOL royals as he had to their own. That was not to say that he had not looked at them at all; he had, if only to look at the picture of the 8-year-old prince and remember the days they’d been delegated outside while their parents had conducted political talks. They’d been good friends when they were younger, and spending time exploring with the eldest Bondevik remained some of Lovino’s clearest childhood memories. He had looked over his profile enough to know that the bounty for his Fynknian counterpart was 45 billion marks, not 55.

An odd, clenching feeling arose in his stomach as he exited the profile and sought out Feliciano’s own. His worst suspicions were confirmed when he noted the 40 billion bounty, rather than the pre-existing 30 billion. The same, 10-billion mark increase also applied to Princess Emilia, and the Daernic queen. All of their bounties had been increased by 10 billion marks each. Just like him, the increase had only been tendered yesterday. He abruptly felt very nauseous, and shut off the Cell, plunging it back into his jacket pockets, wishing that he had just ignored the notification. Feliciano’s face was drawn and worried, though he, like Lovino, managed to neutralise his expression by the time they paid, took their takeaway food and made their way back toward the Szwicza District.

“Lovino…” Feliciano seemed to lose his courage to broach the subject, and hung his head instead. His head was buzzing. He didn’t understand at all. Why? Their bounties had been the same for years, and now they chose to change them? His lips tightened, and he drummed the fingers of his free hand on his leg nervously.

In all honestly, it wasn’t the bounty which got to him, or even the CGI photos which now graced his profile. No, it was another, smaller detail he had noted when reading through, one which he didn’t think Feliciano had noticed.

One of the notes in his “Status” section had stated that the last reported sightings, or suspected sightings, were on Incanda, where they had been just in Janwir. It shouldn’t have rattled him so much, but it did. Because, whoever had ‘spotted’ them couldn’t have been lying. That information was recent, and the last time they had been on Incanda had also been the first time they were ever on the planet. Someone had seen them, and someone had recognised them. Recently, too.

“We are not going to mention it to Vash, okay?” he managed to say as they approached the entrance to their apartment building. Feliciano nodded wordlessly, and the brothers exchanged one more tense, concerned glance before walking inside.

* * *

Matthias was awoken by an insistent beeping coming from somewhere to his right. He groaned, turning his head away from the noise, trying to bury his head further into the comfortable warmth under his head. That warmth, upon further investigation, turned out to be Francis’ stomach, and Matthias briefly debated whether he valued his friend’s love of personal space, or his own beauty sleep more. After begrudgingly accepting that it was the former, he hauled himself up into a sitting position, in turn knocking Yael’s leg off his shoulder. Looking around, he was amazed he hadn’t managed to set off a domino effect.

Clearly, instead of leaving Vash’s apartment at a semi-reasonable time last night, they had stayed up planning for too long and ended up falling asleep. Matthias couldn’t help but grin at this. Vash himself wasn’t among those sprawled across the floor, and upon turning around, he spotted him standing by the kitchen island, mug of pure black coffee in his hands, watching them all with a vague expression of disinterest. Matthias stretched, wincing as he heard a joint in his back click and pop, before stepping carefully over his friends. His cell was beeping insistently, and he muttered a few unflattering things about it as he opened it up, silencing it. It was just an update from the Index, in any case. He would check it later.

He nodded briefly to Vash, folding his arms as he felt his stomach growl with hunger. Vash didn’t let them eat any of his food, regrettably, so Matthias knew he would have to wait until the others woke up to get proper food.

It took less time than he thought, as they gradually began to pick themselves up from the mass of maps, photos and sheets of notes which had cushioned them. Vash’s coffee machine wasn’t out of bounds, so Matthias occupied himself by figuring out how it worked and making himself a cup. Vash seemed to think that having sugar and milk in coffee should be a punishable offence, so Matthias had it black. He screwed his face up at the first few mouthfuls, but relaxed a little when he got used to it. He didn’t understand why Vash loved black coffee so much. As a lover of all things sweet, Matthias found it shocking.

He was shaken from his musings by the door opening with a loud banging noise. Vash’s eyes widened, and he straightened up, setting his cup on the bench. He had taken no more than two steps forward, however, when a young, rather attractive man appeared from the hallway, running a hand carelessly through his hair. He paused, raising an eyebrow at those of Matthias’s friends still draped all over the floor, and Matthias took the opportunity to get a proper look at him.

As he had thought before, he was _very_ attractive, with rich black hair and smooth olive skin worth getting jealous over. His hair was a little messy, but it only added to his appeal. His eyes were a vibrant shade of amber, and he had the sorts of eyelashes – long, full and dark – which some people would kill for. He didn’t look like he spent much time on his appearance, which only made it more irritating that he was as attractive as he was. He had a simple, white shirt thrown on, dark pants and worn boots, a loose grey jacket thrown over the top. Vash didn’t seem delighted to see him, however.

“What are you–” his sentence was cut off mid-way as the young man threw a bag at him. Vash caught it, of course, looking surprised. The man explained.

“We stopped by Takedi’s for breakfast.” God, even his voice was attractive. Not to make any assumptions, but Matthias honestly thought he looked like he should be in the brothel across the road. It was only when Vash levelled a death glare at him, and the young man blinked in surprise, that he realised he’d spoken his opinion out loud. Vash placed the bag down, looking very ready to hit Matthias, when the other shook his head.

“Don’t bother. Plus, I’ll take it as a compliment. It means he thinks I’m pretty enough to work there.” The young man said, looking more amused than anything. Vash paused, shooting Matthias one last harsh look before he backed down a little, opening the bag and pulling out several boxes of food. “We thought we might be generous and get some for your friends as well.” The young man said, fearlessly opening Vash’s fridge and pulling out a bottle of cream. Matthias blinked. Clearly, whoever this guy was, he was on enough of Vash’s good side to be given allowances like that.

“You’re welcome.” This was directed to Matthias. He blinked, straightening up and thanking him before he could make an even worse impression. He watched the dark-haired man pull a spiced barley cake from one of the containers and add cream to it, before he forced his attention away.

The rest of his friends woke within the next ten minutes or so, all sending curious looks at the young man now perched on the kitchen counter – which the rest of them were not allowed to even touch. They all seemed, at least, to notice how attractive he was, though in far less offensive ways than Matthias had. Antonio looked like he’d been clubbed over the head when he first caught sight of his face, which Matthias very nearly snorted at.

With his breakfast settling in his stomach, and his friends all in varying states of consciousness, Matthias finally turned to examine what his Cell had received an alert about. Arthur was just beginning to berate Francis over taking so much food, when he spotted it.

“Holy fucking shit!” he exclaimed, eyes widening. The others all spun around to look at him, confused and curious. He was aware that his mouth was hanging open, and he barely managed to shut it when Alfred asked what he was freaking out about. Matthias looked up, feeling shell-shocked. “You know how we were planning to start searching for those Free Court royals before the others got kidnapped?” the others nodded, and Matthias took that as a sign to continue. “Well, their value has gone up. By about 10 billion marks each.”

Leon, who had been drinking a mug of coffee when he proclaimed this, promptly inhaled some of it, choking for a moment before he managed to clear his windpipe. “That’s...a lot of money.”

Matthias nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” he said, investigating the profile of the Syhvvanian heir, “that makes Prince Lovino Vargas of Syhvva worth….60 billion marks now.” He said, gazing at the number in shock. Leon looked stunned, as though it had not occurred to him that one person could be worth so much. The young man seated up on the counter seemed unperturbed by the news.

“I heard that, yeah. Any clue why they’ve hiked it up?” he asked curiously. Matthias shook his head.

“Not a clue.” He said regretfully. His gaze remained glued to that beautiful, 11-digit number. He heard Francis call his name, and looked up.

“As lovely a prize as 60 billion marks would be, we need to focus on our main priority, which, right now, is getting our friends back.” As happy as he would be to have that amount of money handed to him, he knew Francis was right. They left tomorrow, and they needed to be completely prepared. He nodded, shutting off the Cell. The young man on Vash’s counter stretched, before gracefully sliding to the ground.

“Well, I’ll be off. You owe me one for the breakfast, Vash.” He chided the blonde. Vash sighed, nodding reluctantly as the other vanished out the door again, moving to examine their map of Nyma again as he heard Antonio begin to enquire after the attractive visitor.

* * *

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,  
18th Maarch

Tori couldn’t but giggle as she watched Gilbert try to wake his cousin up. It was only early in the morning, but as all of them but Roderich had been awoken by loud noises from outside, Gilbert saw fit to try and wake his cousin up to join them in their collective misery. Eventually, when poking and prodding served to be useless, Gilbert just pinched Roderich’s nose shut with his hands, making sure his mouth was closed. Only a few moments later, the dark-haired man was awake, thrashing in surprise and confusion. He quickly seemed to gather who had woken him from Gilbert’s raucous laughter, and lost no time in punching him solidly between the ribs. Gilbert wheezed, clutching his side, but grinning regardless as Roderich rolled his eyes and huffed in irritation. The two only continued to jibe at one another, culminating in a minature poking battle.

Feliks frowned abruptly, turning his head toward the door. Instantly on guard from his behaviour, Tori strained her ears, understanding his wariness when she heard the sharp, clipped noise of footsteps on the stone ground. She relaxed a little. It was probably just Matthew, come to give them an update on any and everything of interest. Though they weren’t really friends with any rebels, considering their current arrangement as prisoners, Matthew was as close as they would likely get. He was kind, and intelligent, and above all, he seemed trustworthy.

Tori knew that at least part of her trust in him was due to his being Alfred’s doppelganger, but she couldn’t help it. Despite their many similarities, he appeared different enough to his brother– both physically and in personality – but still managed to arouse some sense of comfort in her. Everything felt less overwhelming when he was leaning casually on the bars of their cell, talking about the weather or the latest inter-galactic celebrity scandal. Of course, Feliks and Gilbert had explained that Alfred did have an older brother who he lost during raids in his hometown when he was young, and Matthew was undoubtedly that same older sibling. Really though, none of them had directly confronted him about it yet. Perhaps they should do so soon. If their friends did come to rescue them, it might save him a lot of bemusement.

That thought was dashed from her mind, however, when she saw the rebel approaching their cell. It was not Matthew, as expected. Instead it was a young man with longish brown hair who poked his head through the bars to look at them. He blinked, observing them for a moment before speaking.

“Um, hello? You…prisoners? That sounds kinda mean, though.” The last sentence he almost muttered to himself, frowning. Tori exchanged a look with Feliks. The man, whoever he was, seemed to overcome his little internal struggle, and managed a smile. Despite his bizarre musings, he seemed friendly. “Sorry, I’ve never been sent to deal with prisoners before. I dunno if I’m supposed to call you ‘maggots’ or something.” He shook his head. “Anyway, food.”

This cheered them all a little, and they took the proffered trays happily. They had all long since stopped thinking that they were going to be poisoned or otherwise drugged. And the food was good, so they no longer hesitated to eat it. The man frowned, looking troubled, sighing before voicing what was on his mind.

“Listen, are you all…being treated well?” he asked, eyes trained on their faces for any sign of their emotions. Tori blinked in surprise. The last few days had been a little dull, yes, as Matthew hadn’t been around in a while, but they hadn’t been treated badly. Now that she thought of it, those who came around to feed them the last few days had been silent, and almost hostile to them. It wasn’t like she was expecting any sort of luxury or preferential treatment, but after the relatively kind others who had come before, it was a little odd. She didn’t voice this opinion, though. Feliks answered for them.

“Yes, as well as prisoners of our calibre deserve, I suppose.” He said dismissively as he turned his attention back to the bowl of beef stew in front of him. The man looked ready to enquire further, but shut his mouth, watching them silently. Tori was about to ask why he was so worried about how they were being treated, when another rebel appeared behind him and entered the cell. Her mind went blank, and she felt the muscles of her body locking up in shock. Distantly, vaguely, she could still hear the conversation taking place.

“Come on, Vlad, what’s taking so long?” the newcomer said, adjusting a dark woollen cap on his head as his sharp, calculating gaze swept over all of them. Tori abruptly became very aware of the fact that her hair was no longer dyed. The rebels had made them use a soap on their hair which removed all types of dye, save _halkar_ , and most of the rebels had been suitably surprised to find she was Daernic herself. The brunette man started a little, grinning at the other in a friendly, jovial manner as he dragged himself upwards from the floor.

“Ah, right, were we going over pipe bombs or incendiaries?” Vlad said cheerfully, dusting himself off. The other shrugged.

“Incendiaries, I believe.” Tori could see them turning to leave, could feel the words which her lips were aching to spit out. A surge of desperation filled her as she saw Vlad go to close the barred door.

“Wait! I…I know you.” The two men paused, and Vlad turned, frowning.

“What?” he said, looking appropriately baffled.

“Not you.” she murmured, eyes glued to the other, who met her gaze, eyes slightly narrowed. “You, I know you somehow.” He raised an eyebrow as Vlad looked at him.

“Do…do you know her? Lukas?” the pale man, Lukas, observed her for a moment.

“I think you’re mistaken.” He said simply, looking unimpressed by her admission.

“I’m not,” she demanded, “I know I’m not. I know you somehow. You’re…familiar.” Lukas watched her in silence for a moment.

“You knew me?” he said, looking less doubtful now, but, oddly, a little harsher, too, “How do you know?”

Tori blinked. “I don’t….I’m not really sure, I just know for a fact that I know you, or” she squinted at him a little, “I _knew_ you, in any case.” Lukas considered her for a moment.

“Where are you from, anyway? I can see that you’re Daernic, but is that where you’ve grown up?”

She shook her head. “For the first few years of my life I lived on Daerna. I managed to get out when the expansion happened. Since then, I lived on Aralos.”

“And somehow then came to join a band of bounty hunters?” he inquired, glancing at Feliks and Gilbert. She nodded slowly. He stared at her for a moment, as if he were trying to stare into her very soul.

“Is it…” she trailed off before regaining her courage, “is it possible that you lived on Daerna at some point? That might explain it.” He raised an eyebrow, and in a swift motion pulled the cap from his head. Her stomach lurched. His hair was fair, fairer than she might have ever seen before; white blond, so pale it could have passed as plain white or even silver. She blinked, looking down with a single, disparaged, “oh…”

He cocked his head to the side as he pulled the cap back onto his head.

“I have been to Daerna before, but not for any long period of time.” He said, still watching her with that disquieting stare. “If you really met me during that time, and _remembered_ ….” He smiled ruefully, “Well, it doesn’t seem really possible, does it? At the very least, quite unlikely.”

She couldn’t argue with that, really. She barely remembered her own life on Daerna. It was very unlikely then, that she would remember someone if she met them only very briefly. The Fynknian, Lukas, turned away.

“I believe that you are mistaken.”

She shook her head vehemently. No, that wasn’t it. She said as much.

“No, I know you. I’m certain. Absolutely certain.” Tori wasn’t sure where this resolve came from exactly, but it filled her to her very bones.

“Really.” Lukas murmured, looking at her again. “You poor thing.”

 And, without a further word, or even a look backwards, he swung the barred door shut and disappeared from sight. She could feel the others’ eyes on her, but she shook her head, burying her face into her arms, a clear indicator that she didn’t want to talk at that moment. She felt the others drop their gaze, and Tori looked up only when she felt an arm around her shoulder; one she knew belonged to Feliks. He didn’t ask a single question, just comforting her with his warmth as her mind swirled and stormed with doubts and half-recalled memories.


	25. A Carnival of Horrors: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back once more! Thank you to everyone who commented or kudosed! I really appreciate it!
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- Gilbert, Roderich, Tori and Feliks are still captives of the rebels. Tori recognised one of them, but isn't sure why or how  
> \- Lovino turned 20, and found out that his value, as well as those of all the other royals, has increased by 10 billion marks.  
> \- The Bounty hunters + pirates plan to depart Rela for Nyma, starting their search for their friends.  
> \- The spy conspiracy in the Union continues.
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> Language, minor violence
> 
> Also, I would like to take the time to dedicate this chapter to Cone_of_Depression. You are an absolutely amazing person, and I really don't deserve the kind words you send with every update! It's people like you who keep me going, and I'm truly grateful that I managed to get someone so wonderful hooked on my story. Thank you so much!! :D

_Szwicza District,_  
Bibesti, Rela,  
18 th Maarch

Arthur scowled as they passed easily through the checkpoints. Try as he might to conceal it, he could tell that Francis was watching him closely. He dropped his gaze to the floor. Seeking out Colin was pointless, in any case. Though his brother had been friendly enough when he’d entered Rela, Arthur wouldn’t put it past him to be offended that Arthur hadn’t stopped by.

And he’d been close to going, too. He’d sought out the address one day, and stood outside for almost an hour, unable to make himself go inside. He had wanted to, so, so badly, but he just couldn’t. He’d tucked the paper with the address on it safely among his possessions, though he almost didn’t need it; he’d already memorised it.

But what did you say to someone you hadn’t seen in over three years? Arthur had made his choice all those years ago. He had cast away his family in exchange for a life which could offer him what they couldn’t. Pirates didn’t mix well with normal civilians. He had expected, should he ever see them again, that he would be met with anger and disdain. But Colin hadn’t acted like that at all. He hadn’t been so much as irritated at Arthur. Clearly, his family knew him too well. They understood his reasoning, and instead of being angry, they still managed to support him. A far cry from their numerous brawls and arguments when they were children.

_‘Honestly, I’m surprised that you’re still alive.’_

_‘Law enforcement can’t kill me that easy.’_

_‘You know that’s not what I was talking about.’_

A chill ran up his spine as he remembered his brother’s words. But of course, Colin would be surprised. He was the first one that Arthur told, and the only. Niamh had learned via Colin, of course – she was his wife, after all – and considering the fact that Alistair, Noah and his parents were yet to hunt him down and kill him – they had been told as well.

He winced. They had been away from Reycass for far too long. He was normally very careful about how much of his supply he brought, but this excursion of theirs had been completely unplanned. He had hardly _asked_ for Roderich to get captured. By his count, he had one dose left. It was scheduled to be taken today. And then what? He shuddered to think about it.

His headache throbbed, hammering pain into his skull. Arthur winced, raising a hand to it. As if going through planetary checkpoints wasn’t painful enough.

He turned his attention to Vash. Though he was a well-known assassin, he seemed completely calm when going through. Arthur had glimpsed the name on his passport – Julien Keller – and was unsure if it was an alias, or Vash Zwingli was in fact a false name like his own. He didn’t ask. Vash was hardly a friendly person, and he seemed to regard people invading his privacy as akin to murdering babies in front of him.

Thankfully, getting out of Rela was far easier than getting in. The only real security parameter was a check of your passport to ensure you weren’t a wanted criminal. After that, they were free to collect their ship and fly away. He couldn’t help but sigh in relief as the planet vanished into the white blur of hyperspace behind them.

Arthur turned to go to his room and relax a little, only to nearly collide with Francis. His eyes widened, and he stumbled back a little.

“Ugh, mind not standing right behind me, wanker?” he snapped. Francis raised an eyebrow.

“I must admit, it’s kind of funny. I was the one who took a knife to the gut a week ago, but you’re the one who looks like he’s lost a lot of blood.” Arthur stared at him, swivelling to examine his reflection in the glass. Shit, Francis was right – he was white as a sheet. He scowled.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” He snapped, turning back around. But Francis’ eyes were not on his face. They were staring at the inside of his right elbow, uncovered for once. More specifically, he was staring at the small dots that were scattered over it. Needles usually didn’t leave such marks, but when one used them as frequently as Arthur did, scarring was inevitable.

“Your bad choices never cease to astonish me.” Francis said, his tone falling somewhere between disdain, disappointment and revulsion. “Tell me this isn’t some sort of rehab period.” He spat. Arthur stared at him, stomach curling with nausea.

“Like I said before, it’s none of your business.” His voice came out less forceful than he had wanted, and he pushed past Francis, head pounding again. He could feel the blonde’s gaze on his back, and took a deep breath, oddly feeling like he was going to cry.

_Just ignore him. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know._

But that was, arguably, the whole problem.

* * *

Travelling in hyper-speed, it only took them about a day to reach Nyma, though that was hardly a relief for Matthias. Being back here was hardly what he had wanted out of searching for a group of wayward royals, and he frowned when he spotted the dull spot of colour on the horizon which he knew was Aralos. Just six weeks before, they had come here to begin their search. They’d met Tori, welcomed her onto their crew, and from there, things had just become more convoluted. Not that any of what had happened was her fault, oh no. Tori made a wonderful addition to their crew. It was just misfortune that everything had gone to hell before she’d had a chance to actually live life with them and acclimate.

Matthias sighed, glaring at the outfits they would have to wear down on the surface. They strongly resembled those that he had seen people wearing on Aralos; long, loose sand-coloured robes made of a scratchy material, paired up with musty-smelling headscarves with transparent silk folds to protect their mouths and eyes from sand. Underneath that, they’d been advised to wear long pants and shirts, as well as tall boots with zips. Upon asking why his lace-up boots were not appropriate, Matthias had learned about the thirteen different species of scorpion that were native to the Coysashi area, several of which had a liking of small, dark spaces. He stopped complaining after that.

“If looks could kill, I think our clothes would have been reduced to ashes by now.” Matthias looked up, grinning when he saw Alfred standing before him. The younger had already changed into the clothes he was wearing underneath – long, dark brown pants and a long but loose white shirt. Pretty sensible choices. His boots were zip-up ones, Matthias noted.

“I know that these are apparently ‘optimal’ to wear for protection, but I am from northern Rywan.” Matthias groaned. “I mean, what’s the bet that I die of heatstroke on day one?”

Alfred laughed. “I’m not taking you up on that.” Matthias quirked a brow, but grinned, greatly cheered. Alfred checked his watch, frowning.

“As awful as they might be, you might wanna get changed. If my watch is right, we’ll be there in an hour or so.” Matthias gave a long-suffering sigh, but complied nonetheless. This was not going to be a very pleasant trip, that much he knew already. He brushed down his new-old robes, and re-entered the cockpit, where Antonio was also dressed, though he pulled the look off far better than Matthias did. The Jhobrasian grinned at him, pointing out the main screen. Matthias’ eyes widened. They were far closer to Nyma than he had thought. They had entered the planet’s atmosphere, and for such a dangerous planet, the view was beyond stunning.

Amber dirt stretched out almost as far as the eye could see to their right, with only a few paler patches of ground that indicated grasslands interrupting the rich colour. On their left, the terrain was more rugged, dark soils decorated with large grey boulders and small clusters of bizarre, smooth-trunked trees. To their far left, an immense mountain range stretched up from the ground to meet the sky, cragged grey and black peaks wreathed in pale, insubstantial clouds. The sky was a rich shade of cobalt, offsetting the warmer colours of the ground nicely. To their east, the sun hung, massive and brilliant, in the sky, far more dominant that it had been on Aralos. Though of course, they’d anticipated this; Nyma’s path of orbit was closer than Aralos’, after all.

Matthias heard shuffling behind him as the others burst through, eyes widening and jaws dropping in amazement as they appreciated their first proper look at the planet. Antonio began to steer the ship earthbound as Vash pointed out several landmarks.

“Those are the Sulig Mountains,” he said, pointing to the dark peaks to their left, “the largest mountain range in the whole system.” He gestured to the grasslands further to the north as they flew over them. “Those would be the Dar Hin’zas grasslands. They’re about 30 kilometres south of the Gafadari grasslands, in Coysash territory. I doubt we’ll see the Dar Hin’zas, though we may cross through the Gafadari.” He paused, then pointed out something to Antonio, muttering as he did. “It shouldn’t be too long now.”

Antonio steered the ship up again, soaring over the mountain range. According to their maps, their destination was further north, but Matthias honestly couldn’t be sure – seeing things in real life was very different to seeing them as lines and text on a map. They swerved past a particularly steep peak; which Vash announced as Mount Zair’de’baatas, and began to descend again on the other side, where the land once again levelled out. Vash stretched up on his toes a little, squinted, and then pointed. “There.”

The others frowned, trying to spot whatever Vash was pointing out. Matthias’ eyes widened, finally able to see it when they crossed past a detached peak of the Suligs. A dark stretch of land lay ahead of them, as far as the eye could see. It was pitted with craters and rubble, and smoke hung above the space in massive clouds.

Their unspoken question was answered by Vash. “Katye’s Plain. Once a place filled with many of the Iramese minority, and treasured by both the Coysash and Mugarobe for it’s fertile soil and water reserves.” He curled his lip in disgust. “And now look at it.”

Matthias could hardly stand to look at it; Katye’s Plain was less of a plain than a narrow, shallow valley. Though he could understand, looking at some of the surrounding land, how it might have once been beautiful, it wasn’t like that anymore; more of a dark, vile gash in the earth than a piece of land worth warring over. He turned away, and instead moved back into the living room, where their map was still spread out over a table. Matthias ran his hand over the small mark which indicated the plain on the map. It looked so insignificant there, and yet he could only guess, by the appearance of the plain, how many lives had been lost in the fight to claim it. The Nymian Civil war had been going on for decades, so he knew it would hardly be a petty figure.

Alfred had followed him out of the cockpit.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” he said, frowning. “The whole war thing, I mean.” Matthias shrugged, trying to conceal how much he agreed with the words.

“People die every day.” He said, struggling to keep his tone neutral. “Death is just another part of life.”

“800 deaths a day isn’t normal, though. Particularly in such a small area.” Vash’s cool tone interrupted them from behind. Matthias jumped a little, brow furrowing. Nyma didn’t conform to the Universal Standard Calendar, and thus used it’s own, 400-day year, that he knew. 800 a day….he blanched as his mind filled in the blanks, doing the math without his consent. Shaking his head, Matthias turned away, cursing softly when his vision blurred. Vash hardly seemed to note his discomfort and emotional reaction. “We land soon. Be prepared.” Matthias nodded hurriedly, leaping to his feet and rummaging through his bag, mentally going over their checklist. Certain that he had everything, he nodded in satisfaction, closing up his supplies.

“Everyone, you might wanna hold onto something!” Antonio’s voice crackled out overhead. “This might be a little bit of a rough landing.” Considering Antonio’s standards for ‘rough’ and ‘smooth’ landings, Matthias knew this would be bad. No later than he had thrown his pack over his back and seized one of the couches in the living room, the ship was suddenly flung to the side. Gazing out the windows wildly, Matthias blanched when he saw the jagged grey rocks which they were hurtling past.

“Antonio!” he bellowed. His next words were swallowed, however, when the ship flipped in the air, plunging downwards for a single, heart-stopping moment before shooting skyward again. Alfred was yelling indistinguishably, clutching the sofa near Matthias. His legs slammed into Matthias’ stomach, and, winded, Matthias’ hold on the couch slipped. He was slammed into the window with enough force for a worrying cracking noise to emanate from Matthias’ side, accompanied by a great deal of pain. Yelping, one of his hands flew toward it, tears of pain springing to his eyes.

Before Matthias could even process what was happening, the ship gave a great shudder, spun wildly, and came to a stop. They had, finally, landed. Alfred slowly poked his head above the couch, looking shocked and confused. Matthias, groaning, curled onto his side, face screwed up in pain as Alfred dashed over to him, firing off questions. He could hear the others talking in confusion and surprise.

Arthur, however, probably vocalised all of their thoughts the best.

“What the actual fuck was that?” he yelled as he staggered through the entrance to the living room, death-glaring at Antonio as the Jhobrasian sheepishly left the cockpit. “Were you trying to kill us all?” Antonio shrunk away a little, then shrugged. Arthur positively lunged for him, scowling. “Stupid bloody cunt–” Ivan yanked him back, frowning.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Antonio cried out, holding his hand up in a gesture of surrender when he seemed to be certain that no-one would punch him in the face. “There was an airspace enforcer tracking us. I had to avoid it!” Arthur paused in his futile efforts at getting Ivan to release his hold on him.

“An airspace enforcer?” he echoed. “But the Sulig Mountains’ south-western stretch is neutral, isn’t it?”

“Apparently not.” Vash said sharply. “The Mugarobe have been advancing around this area for a while now. It only makes sense that they would annex it.” He picked up their map from the floor, surveying it with a look of discontent. “If they control the south-western stretch, that means that they also control the mountain passes. If we want to avoid capture by them – which we will, since they’ll assume we’re Coysashi and execute us – we’ll have to travel deeper through the mountains.” He rolled up the map, a disgruntled look on his face.

“Will that be a problem?” Mei asked, looking anxious. Vash sighed.

“It might be. We’ll have to be very discreet, and move quickly. We don’t want to antagonise any of the mountain tribes around here.” No-one was eager about meeting any of them, that was for sure. They all nodded, and silently collected their things, disembarking without further discussion.

Even though the landing hadn’t been ideal, their ship was in surprisingly good condition. It had skidded along the ground a little, and as a result, had had long streaks of its paint worn off. Other than that, however, it looked the same as ever. Matthias, having been helped out of the ship by Berwald, looked around. They had landed deep in the mountains, on a small, sandy cliff which hung in the shadow of a massive, twisting black mountain peak. Turning around, Matthias’ eyes widened as he took in the view beyond the landing. Gradually shrinking cliffs stretched away in a haze of grey and white. Red dirt lurked beyond, the land they had soared over just before little more than a smudge of bright colour on the horizon. It deeply contrasted the vibrant colours of Nyma’s surface that they had seen before. It was as though, within the mountains, all colour had been drained away, leaving them in a sepia-toned landscape. Only the vibrant blue of the sky remained unchanged.

Despite the intense heat which had greeted them when they’d stepped outside, Matthias shuddered, pulling the rough folds of his robes closer around him. His side was throbbing painfully. He saw Berwald throwing him a concerned glance. He forced himself to smile reassuringly, turning away to again survey the sharp peaks. They seemed to be almost stranded. They were hemmed in by dark rock on two sides, and the other side yielded a sharp drop. He didn’t see how they were going to get out.

The thought had no sooner left his mind when Vash, seemingly doing a final rundown of his personal inventory, pointed to a small, dark gash in the rock. Alfred’s eyes virtually bugged out of his head as the assassin walked toward it.

“You’re kidding. _That’s_ where we’re going?”

Vash turned, disinterested look once again present on his face.

“Of course,” he said, “it’s a rarely used mountain path, but it should serve us our purpose.” Groaning, the others followed him reluctantly. Ivan hesitated.

“Shouldn’t someone wait with the ship? What if it gets stolen? We’d be stranded here.”

They all paused, considering the idea. Of course, having known Ivan for a while now, Matthias was acquainted with the idea that the imposing man was a bit of a claustrophobic, and he knew that Ivan’s concern over safety wasn’t his only motivation here. He was nodding even as the others turned to get his opinion.

“Good point. I don’t want to spend any more time on this hellhole than necessary because we had to buy a new ship.” He made eye contact with Ivan, smiling. “Why don’t you stay and watch it? You’re a lot more intimidating than the rest of us. I doubt even the Mugarobe will mess with you.” Ivan nodded.

“Alright.” He shot Matthias a grateful look as the others shrugged in agreement and began to file through the hole. Matthias winked.

“See you on the other side, Ivan.” He said, accepting Alfred’s helping hand up into the hole. The tall man waved.

Matthias planted his feet on the jagged rock as Alfred hauled him up. He staggered slightly as his side burned with pain, so intensely that he felt his stomach twist with nausea. Forcefully ignoring the feeling, he placed his hands on the rock on either side of him. The small passage was very narrow, to the point that he had to backtrack a little and turn his body sideways to get through the end.

Beyond the passage was a narrow path. Rock rose on either side of them, towering above and blocking out their view of everything but the sky. The path here wasn’t much wider than before. Taking a deep breath and rubbing his side, Matthias moved on. This was going to be an unpleasant trip.

* * *

When Lukas was little, he had played with a wolf in the palace gardens.

It had only happened once, but he remembered the day with stunning clarity. He had been maybe four or five, and still ignorant about what was dangerous and what was not.

He had been sleeping under one of the benches when he’d been woken up by fearful screaming. By the time he had fully come to, it had been silenced, and he had spotted the animal.

At well over a metre tall, it towered over his small stature. With it’s black and white fur, golden eyes, black claws and blood-red gums, it might have been intimidating to other people. But, having explored Oslaholm and seen countless people with small wolves as their pets or hunting companions, he hadn’t felt afraid. He remembered having been enraptured by it’s tail. It was much longer than that of a normal wolf, and almost seemed smoky, like it faded into air by the end. He had been intrigued, and thought the wolf was interesting.

Being the sort of child that he was, he had walked up to the wolf and tried to pat it’s muzzle. Being so small, he had been upset at not being able to reach. The wolf had been silent and still, regarding him almost with interest for a moment before it dropped it’s muzzle slightly so he could reach. Laughing in delight, Lukas had patted the soft fur, reaching for it’s ears. The wolf again complied, dipping it’s head even further so he could touch them. He had spent a little time just petting it, before trying to play with it. At first, the wolf had seemed disinterested, but had quickly started to follow him, gently nudging him.

He had ended up running around with it, giggling. Whenever he fell over, the wolf would walk over and pick him up by the back of his shirt, gently setting him back on his feet. Despite the creature’s fearsome appearance, Lukas had never remembered feeling afraid or threatened. More like the wolf was an exasperated babysitter who was mildly annoyed by him, but generally entertained as well. No-one came to bother them for nearly an hour.

He had been seated on the ground, giggling madly as the wolf had licked his face, when his mother had speedily turned the corner, guards in tow. Upon spotting the wolf, she had screamed in horror. Offput, the wolf had backed away, showing it’s side teeth. Lukas had complained and cried when the wolf went bolting in the opposite direction. His mother had stared at him for a moment, seemingly stunned, before she had come to her senses and scooped him into her arms.

Later, he had been told that the wolf was quite dangerous, and shouldn’t be approached. The reason that no-one had bothered them before then was that everyone had bolted for their rooms and locked the doors when they saw it in the hall. When he complained and told her the wolf was kind to him, she had smiled sympathetically, messing up his hair.

“I know. But it’s still a dangerous creature.” She said. But, even at a young age, Lukas had seen the odd look in her eyes. It resembled a half-processed shock, fear and stunned confusion combined with a strange anticipation.

When he got older, he was able to appreciate exactly how his mother had felt then. Watching a dangerous and potentially life-changing creature circling her son. The panic and fear she must have felt still drove guilt deep inside him.

But the feeling he could relate to; something dangerous was circling, and yet he bore a feeling of both fear _and_ anticipation.

That was how he felt now.

Vlad gave him a sidelong look as they exited the prison cells. He wanted nothing less than to talk about what that girl had said to him, but knowing the incessant monster which was Vlad’s curiosity, he had no choice.

“What was that about?” he inquired. Lukas shrugged.

“I’m not sure.” Vlad raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” he said, sounding thoroughly unconvinced, “She seemed convinced that she knew you.”

“I don’t know her.” He said. Vlad frowned, still looking doubtful, but the other man, thankfully, dropped it.

“Anyway, we have bombs to get to!” he said excitedly, though his happiness seemed a little dampened from what it was earlier. Lukas followed him, letting Vlad’s one-sided chatter flow over him.

This whole thing was getting too convoluted for his liking.

* * *

Matthias had predicted that the trip would be horrible, and he was right. It didn’t really help.

They had been trekking through the narrow mountain path for hours now, to the point that Nyma’s massive sun had sunk out their vision, and the sky had turned indigo. The path was hardly smooth, either. Every few minutes they were sliding through a very small gap, in which they had gotten stuck more than once, clambering over fallen rocks, or scaling steep cliff walls to get to the next section of path where some had collapsed.

They were so deep in the mountains that all sound from outside seemed to have been blocked out. Even the cries of birds which they had heard when they disembarked had gone silent.

He was suffering greatly for the pain in his chest. He had clearly hit the wall hard enough to break something, though considering the pain in his chest, the blunt force trauma might also be seriously damaging. He was starting to lag.

Luckily, for his own dignity, he wasn’t the only one struggling a little. Arthur, who had looked pale and drawn since they left Rela, wasn’t doing much better. According to him, he had a vicious migraine, though judging by the almost grey colour of his complexion, he wasn’t feeling very well either. At least, since Arthur was hanging back with Matthias, he was helping him up over the rocks, which he appreciated a great deal.

Arthur had been looking a little better in the past few hours, but the climbing and walking clearly wasn’t doing him much good.

The two of them staggered weakly through a final rock cleft, with Matthias’ legs giving out under him when he landed. He coughed, chest tightening painfully as he looked around. They had finally caught up to the others, who had evidently stopped to rest. They were in a small clearing space, perhaps barely large enough for the 13 of them to all lay down. A large rock blocked their exit. Arthur groaned to his left when he saw it. Francis laughed at his expression.

“We’re stopping here for the night. We’ll scale it tomorrow.”

Matthias started coughing, wincing as a sensation of stabbing pains filled his chest. He had already been finding it hard to breathe while walking, and he pressed a hand to his mouth and the coughing continued to rack his body. He saw Louise send him a worried look, and she stood, approaching him and kneeling.

“Are you okay, Matthias?” she asked, voice laced with concern. He tried to answer her, but was racked with another bout of coughing. He could hear the others talking distantly, and felt Louise’s hand on his shoulder. Finally, he felt some sort of pressure lift from his lungs, and sucked in a breath in relief. But a sharp, metallic taste on his tongue, and abrupt wetness on his hand made him pause. Cautiously, he drew his hand, blanching when he noted the blood splattered across it. Louise also noticed it, yelping in shock.

He must have fainted, because his next memories consisted of the others leaning over him, his head turned to the side, and someone’s cold fingers probing at his chest. Blinking in confusion, he attempted to sit up, before quickly being pushed back down (gently) by Antonio, who looked very concerned. His shirt had been pushed up, and Vash was poking and prodding around his ribs. Nodding about something, Vash withdrew his hands and allowed Matthias to pull his shirt back down.

“Pulmonary contusion.” He said simply. Though Yael and Arthur seemed to know what that meant, everyone else looked as confused as Matthias was. Vash sighed. “The trauma from your impact with the wall has bruised your lungs.” He explained. “That’s what the blood is from.” He looked up again. “Not super serious.”

Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at that, relaxing a little. Vash frowned. “If I were a doctor, I would recommend you don’t exercise too much, but we don’t really have a choice here.” Matthias winced at the thought of throwing himself over those rocks again tomorrow. Alfred frowned.

“Can’t we like, carry him or something?” Vash nodded slowly.

“That is an option,” he conceded, “though it’ll slow us down a bit.” He looked around at them all. “It’s a shame Ivan stayed behind. I would be correct in assuming he is likely one of the strongest of you, yes?” they all nodded.

“I can carry him.” Berwald mumbled. Matthias grinned at him weakly.

“Thanks, Ber.” He whispered, clutching his chest when it filled with stabbing pain again. Vash frowned.

“Don’t talk too much.” He said, standing. “Anyway, I suggest we all get some sleep. Unless someone else is dying on us?” he asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. The others laughed a little, though Arthur looked too tired to join in.

Within a few minutes, they had all managed to find enough space to lie down. Matthias slumped back on the ground, closing his eyes as exhaustion overtook him.


	26. A Carnival of Horrors: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM FINALLY BACK! I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY ON THIS CHAPTER!  
> I have been immensely busy recently (and I still am right now, in all honesty), even though this chapter has been almost done for a while now.  
> We are finally getting to the climax of this arc of the story! Yay! \\('O')/
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- The bounty hunters and pirates have arrived on Nyma, and have started travelling through the mountains to get into Coysash territory. Ivan remained with the ship. Matthias is injured, but not seriously. Something is also going on with Arthur, but he refuses to admit what.  
> \- Lukas is worried about the fact that Tori has recognised him. Also, a fun flashback with a Good Boy™  
> \- All of the bounties of the royals have increased. Keep this in mind, though it won't really come into play until much later.  
> \- Tension in the resistance is reaching a peak.
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> I don't actually remember, in all honesty (^-^) It's been a while since i revisited this chapter. Probably some language and violence like normal.
> 
> Please enjoy, and give me feedback! It makes me warm and fuzzy and makes me want to please you guys by writing!!

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma  
20th Maarch

Matthew couldn’t quite shake the feeling of uncertainty clinging to him. The past few days had been…odd. So far, this month hadn’t been busy, then all of a sudden, he’d been swamped with so many duties that he found it difficult to even talk to his friends, much less Yao.

Even his normal duties taking care of the prisoners had been severely restricted. He hadn’t personally spoken to the four of them in several days, and it worried him. Those who he did see tending to them now were among Octavia’s supporters, and everyone knew what she had intended to do with them originally. It put him on edge, the way that everyone seemed to be asking for favours or help with odd jobs. He could hardly say no, of course. He loved helping everyone. But he felt like some sort of control, which he didn’t even know he had, was slipping away from him.

He had tried to talk to his closest friends about it, but Tino was being sent out on more and more convoys, being as valuable a sniper as he was, and today he was being stationed out near the Sulig Mountains with another specialist. Bella had told him that there were rumours she was getting shipped back to Daerna to fight. Vlad was being commissioned to make twice as many explosives as he and his team had previously been making, and since Tino was away so much, Kristian had been saddled with teaching more new recruits. Lukas was as yet mostly unaffected, but he was continuing his training with Nelia, which now took up almost all of his time. He hardly saw any of them anymore.

Even Elizabeta and Kari, who normally could be counted on, also seemed run off their feet.

Yao himself was so caught up in the situation with the spy that Octavia seemed to be doing much of his normal administrative duties. She was quite efficient, but she was no Yao. Unlike him, she slept. If there was an emergency during the night, they had to wake her up, whereas with Yao, all that one had to do was signal him, and he’d be there almost immediately.

Matthew sighed as he looked over his schedule for the day. He’d written down everything he was being asked to do, and winced at the sheer length of the list. Working through it mentally, he smiled slightly. If he was able to keep his conversation with Teerapat brief, he might be able to get back to the supplies depot in time to supply their prisoners with lunch. He had been meaning to speak with them anyway.

Sighing, Matthew gathered up the piece of paper and stashed it in his pocket, and set off across the cracked earth. The shade which the trees provided was very welcome, but the humidity of the day was almost unbearable. He’d already stripped off his jacket and the leather biking gloves he was so fond of, but he was already sweating. He’d have to make sure their prisoners had enough water today; more heatstroke cases was _not_ what they needed right now. Kabeeta was being worked overtime just to deal with them all.

He entered the explosives tent with a definitive air of relief. Despite that most of the people in here worked regularly with extreme heat – making incendiaries and using blowtorches to manipulate metal, as they often did – even they had every possible air conditioning machine at full power. He grinned when he spotted one such machine by the door, which, if he was not mistaken, belonged in the dining room. Evidently, Vlad’s sticky-fingered streak was continuing. Said rebel raised an arm and waved him over, grinning in fatigue. Matthew navigated his way around the numerous workbenches stocked with gunpowder and half-completed bombs – careful not to bump any, because who knew which ones were and weren’t active – and sat down next to him.

“It’s been a while.” Vlad commented simply, grinning. Despite his cheery tone, Matthew could see his own vague discomfort reflected back at him. So, he wasn’t the only one to notice the strange change in pace. Matthew nodded.

“I was going to stop by sooner, but I’ve heard you’re run off your feet.” Vlad was nodding before Matthew had even finished the sentence, and sighed, wiping at his brow with the back of a gloved hand.

“That’s an understatement. Octavia wants us to increase production. We’ve already doubled our combustibles, and tripled our flashbangs.” He shook his head. “I’m the only one who’s had any reprieve, so I’m holding the fort while everyone else is power-napping.” Matthew winced in sympathy. “I don’t know why she’s so set on it.” He continued. “Crazy old hag. She barely even checks on us, anyway. We could all be lazing around and drinking tequila, for all she knows.”

Matthew had to laugh at that, especially when he saw the look of longing in Vlad’s expression.

“She can’t be in so many places at once.” He said. Vlad scowled.

“Yao manages to be, most of the time.” They lapsed into silence for a moment before Vlad spoke again. “Do you know what’s going on with this whole spy thing? It feels like they’ve made no progress at all. I mean, Dana’s still in holding, and Yao’s so caught up in it that Octavia’s essentially running this place. Rather shittily, too, may I add.”

Matthew snorted. “She’s not that bad, though most of her policies are horrifying in of themselves.” Vlad nodded in agreement. He bit his lip, frowning as he scooped up a small metal shell filled with shrapnel.

“I really don’t like this whole situation, Matt. There’s something going on.” Matthew nodded in agreement, hesitating. It was dangerous enough to talk like this, in such direct opposition to their current leadership, and more dangerous still to do what he was thinking. He remembered one of his last conversations with Yao. Their leader had looked harried and frightened. This whole situation with the spy was getting to him. Matthew understood why. Many of his friends had only joined the resistance after they had moved their base to Nyma, so they didn’t understand why some of them were so petrified about the idea of a spy.

But Matthew remembered. The last spy they’d had had been in 4503CC, over 9 years ago now. Back then they’d been stationed on Apollomina, in a forested sort of area. Matthew and Abel, being so much younger than apt fighting age, had been taken with a high-ranking rebel fighter, for a small excursion to Jhobras. She’d needed them in order to maintain her cover as a benevolent noblewoman who took in war orphans. They had only stayed on the planet for about three weeks, and had been called back prematurely by an urgent message. There had been a suspected leak in information, and the rebel official they been stationed with was an expert on technology. Neither he nor Abel had been overly concerned. As boys of just 13 and 15 respectively, they hadn’t really believed that it would be anything bad.

Just a few days later, they were woken by a rebel, screaming at them to run and hide. So, they had. He and Abel had huddled with several other young rebels, shaking and fearful, hidden underneath the wooden floorboards of their command tent. He still remembered how those hours had dragged on by, while they sat, listening to the sounds of screaming and people dying. He remembered how they’d all stiffened and forced themselves to be silent and still, even as blood began to run through the floorboards and onto their heads and clothes.

After four hours, the screaming had stopped, but they hadn’t dared to emerge. It was a good day after that until they were beckoned out by the sounds of Kabeeta yelling. The scene outside had been beyond twisted. Body upon body upon body, hacked or sliced or shot, blood coating the ground and pooling like water after rain. They’d been led, shaking and sobbing, away, to a small tent hidden by the forest. It was the first time he’d seen Arshad Teymouri up close. He would have given anything to erase the memory of that man’s drawn, pale, horrified face. Everyone told him that it was good he wasn’t there at the time. He was their leader, and needed to be safe. That hadn’t stopped him from shaking. Nor had it stopped him, later, when Matthew had woken in the night to see him clawing at his own forearms in horror. He’d drawn blood, and tore a good deal of skin away, but Matthew hadn’t stopped him. Everyone coped differently. Arshad Teymouri had blamed himself.

To top it all off, they had never determined who the spy was exactly. Many of the bodies at Arden had never been identified, and so many other rebels had fled and never returned, that it was impossible to tell who had actually betrayed them. Matthew had heard the name ‘Blackbird’ repeated with increasing fury over the following months, but even that stopped by late the next year.

Matthew would have said that Yao wanted to prevent another Arden, but Yao, to the best of his knowledge, hadn’t even been working closely with the resistance when the massacre happened. He had done a great deal of surveillance in 4502 and 4503, yes, but he had dropped off the grid in late 4503. He hadn’t been there, nor had he seen the aftermath. Likely, though, he had heard enough about Arden to prevent something similar. In any case, the idea of a spy had struck fear deep into rebels’ hearts ever since.

Matthew realised he had fallen completely silent, and shook himself a little. Vlad was staring at him curiously, and he straightened up a little, sighing. This was dangerous, and stupid to even consider. Vlad was intelligent, he would figure it out sooner or later. But it needed to be done.

“Vlad,” he started cautiously, swallowing, “You like the situation here about as much as I do. I’m…I’m honestly worried that something is going to happen. We’re more vulnerable to attacks from the Union than we have been in a while, and I think more and more people are starting to realise that. This business with the spy is segregating the whole community.” Vlad nodded in agreement, watching him closely.

“That, it is.” he murmured, frowning.

“This might sound crazy, or insane, but…Vlad, if anything bad happens, if we get attacked like we did at Arden…would it be crazy of me to ask you to try to look out for Lukas, and Laila?”

Vlad blinked, clearly surprised. “Not crazy. Unexpected, I’ll admit.” He frowned. “That’s an odd request. From what I’ve seen, they’re quite capable on their own.” Matthew nodded. Vlad smiled. “Sure. I guess, they are pretty young, aren’t they? They don’t act it, but they are.” Matthew subconsciously latched onto the excuse, nodding.

“Yeah. It’s just, well, I don’t know. They’re Fynknian, and I know that they want to go back to their planet and fight one day. They’re good kids, and I don’t want them to get hurt.” Vlad nodded, though Matthew cursed mentally when he saw that Vlad’s eyes had slid slightly out of focus. He was thinking.

“Yeah.” He murmured. Matthew swallowed.

“I have to get going,” he muttered, standing. Vlad blinked, focussing on him again, before nodding. “Good luck with your bombs.” He added as he ducked out the door, already wondering if he had made a serious misstep.

* * *

_Beneath Mount Kar-ti’hn_  
Sulig Mountains, Nyma   
20th Maarch

Antonio planted his feet on the rock, hands scrambling for purchase. He caught hold of a small ridge and sighed in relief, tightening his grip as he dragged his body over the sharp, ragged surface and gracelessly slid down the other side. His landing sent jolts of pain through his feet, and he winced, moving away as he heard Leon start to scale over. Vash was waiting, arms crossed, watching the cleft as Leon emerged from the top.

The past two days had been gruelling. Antonio had thought that he knew mountains and mountaineering. His small home village on Jhobras had been pretty elevated, and climbing had been a hobby of his. Even back in Reycass, when any job involved scaling a building or clambering up some structure, Antonio was the first to volunteer. But the Sulig Mountains presented a challenge which even he hadn’t been able to anticipate. They had been forced to abandon the path they planned on taking late the day before. A series of small landslides had rendered some stretches impassable, and they’d had to change their route to move around it.

But it wasn’t easy; the old, seriously dangerous path which they took now involved a great deal of climbing, sliding, crawling and scrambling up and down steep cliff faces. Already they’d had a few incidents in which someone had almost lost their grip and plummeted onto the harsh rocks below, and everyone was on edge. 

Their situation had been worsened by Matthias’ injuries. Since Berwald was essentially half-carrying him, they were always the last to clear certain stretches. It was becoming quite dangerous for those two, given how many accidents they had almost been involved in. Unfortunately, they had come too far through the mountains for Matthias to return to the ship and Ivan, so their only option was to slow their progress and bring him along.

And he wasn’t the only having trouble. Arthur also seemed to be flagging. He’d looked like his odd, almost patchy health was improving a little after he took some time away for air a few days ago, but since then he had slowly started to deteriorate again. He seemed to be very on edge and worried, constantly wringing his hands and glancing around furtively. Arthur had been of the opinion that they should try to move faster, but the effort seemed to be costing him.

Antonio turned as Vash continued towards their next obstacle. Natalya, Francis and Mei had all managed to throw themselves over the rock while he’d been thinking, and he could see Alfred climbing over now too. Vash had created the rule that they could move on as soon as six people were gathered in one place. Rolling his shoulders and wincing as he heard his joints crack, Antonio followed him. Francis fell into step beside him as they enjoyed a rare stretch of level ground. Antonio glanced behind him, frowning as he saw Yael and Louise helping each other over the rock, with Eduard panting behind them. Berwald, Matthias and Arthur were nowhere to be seen.

“Where are the last three?” Antonio asked. Francis glanced back, brow furrowing.

“They weren’t too far behind. They’ll be fine.” As he spoke, Arthur appeared on the rock, face white and drawn. Antonio saw him turn, grab hold of a hand, and haul Matthias up behind him as Berwald climbed up as well. Francis raised an eyebrow at him. “See?” he said, speeding up a little.

Antonio sighed. He knew that Francis was trying to avoid Arthur; they’d had some sort of argument while still onboard the ship, and they’d looked uncomfortable in each other’s presence ever since. They usually looked uncomfortable with one another anyway, but there was another layer to it now. Francis seemed worried, try as he might to hide it, and Antonio had caught him staring at Arthur with a distant, disappointed expression more than once. Arthur seemed more tired than ever. For a universally-famed pirate, he wasn’t holding up very well. It was strange to Antonio. He’d heard plenty about the heists which Kirkland had performed over the years, and even when the rebels had attacked them, he’d held his own very well. But recently, something had been off. Antonio couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about the pale cast of Arthur’s skin, and his odd behaviour, felt familiar.

He raised his head as he noted that Vash and Francis had paused. Their next obstacle was a steep, downward slope. It was barred on one side by a sheer rock face, but on the other side was a sharp drop, leading to a ragged valley which looked almost like the inside of a volcano, except more uneven and with jagged peaks inside. They could see low-hanging clouds swirling around the valley below them. It was, in a sense, just as beautiful as it was terrifying. That drop would kill anyone instantly, but at least you’d have a hell of a view. And, for the first time, Antonio could see a stretch of red-brown, beyond the furthest peaks. His spirits soared; they were close to actually getting out of the mountains. Vash consulted his compass, and nodded in approval before stowing it away again. He gestured to them.

“We’ll have to be careful along here,” he said, “we don’t know anything about the stability of these rocks.” They all nodded, and the assassin ducked his head slightly to walk under a low rock shelf, and began to move down the slope, keeping his back pressed to the wall. Francis gave Antonio a look which clearly said, ‘ _well here we go’_ before following him. Antonio was next, and he sucked in a breath, murmuring a brief prayer before following Francis, mimicking their movements as he awkwardly shuffled sideways down the ledge.

It was slow, but Antonio didn’t mind, considering that the alternative was more speed and an increased chance of death. Leon, following behind him, staggered briefly, and Antonio threw out an arm to steady him. He was met by murmured thanks, and nodded before continuing. They were higher up than they had wanted to be, and there were a few among their group showing early signs of altitude sickness. Poor Mei had been throwing up last night, and Natalya and Yael had prevented her from potentially falling by tying her to them. He could see her further up the line; she was pale and her eyes were wide, but she seemed to be doing okay.

Turning his head back to the front, Antonio breathed a sigh of relief as he finally stepped off the ledge and onto a larger rock, which was much more level. Francis seemed equally relieved, as did Leon when he stepped off a moment later, though, as to be expected, Vash’s expression had hardly changed. He merely looked impatient as he waited for the others to catch up. Antonio caught Francis’ gaze, and they both rolled their eyes.

For once, Vash actually waited for everyone to get onto the rock. Arthur looked positively wretched, and Matthias looked rather nauseous, but other than that, everyone was fine. Vash was frowning, staring at the roughly drawn map in his hands, gaze darting from it to the wide passage to their right. He sighed, folding the map and stowing it away.

“This next passage is marked on the map, which means that it’s used by the tribes around here.” he gave them a pointed look, “They could be potentially hostile, so it would be best if we didn’t alert them to the fact that we’re here. That means stay quiet.” Without another word on the matter he turned, and entered the passageway. Antonio let Francis move in front of him, and stalled for a moment to watch Berwald lift Matthias up onto his back before he turned to follow Francis.

This passage was actually quite light. Since the rocks facing the sun were much shorter and slimmer than the others they’d seen before, the passageway danced with sunlight. Though the heat of the day had been more awful today than it had before, the light was welcome. For once, Antonio could actually see where he was stepping, and didn’t have to worry about disrupting a scorpion nest or some other wonderful animal.

He couldn’t tell how long they walked for. It could have been 10 minutes or two hours. The path was clearly well-worn by the natives around here, and dangerous though they might be, he couldn’t help but be grateful that they could walk normally for once. He was interrupted from his reverie when Francis halted in front of him, and Antonio held up a hand to warn the others behind him. He heard their footsteps still. Vash held up his hand in a gesture which he’d had them all learn back on Rela. His thumb was curled into his palm, and held there by his middle and ring finger. His pinkie was folded over his ring finger, and his pointer finger was extended all the way out. _People._ Antonio’s eyes widened, and he felt himself hold his breath as they heard footsteps. To his surprise, however, Vash didn’t seem to be drawing any weapons. Deciding to follow his lead, he drew his hand away from where it had been posed by his gun.

Just a moment later, a woman emerged from the passage ahead of them. She only seemed to be in her early twenties, and looked completely unsurprised to see them standing there. Her frizzy black hair had been pulled back and braided, and she was dressed in a simple outfit; leather boots, brown pants, a white shirt and a vest woven from strips of bleached leather. A fox-skin scarf looped itself around her neck, and she held a wickedly sharp machete in hand. She raised an eyebrow at them, smirking slightly before she lowered her weapon.

“Not jumping to attack me, huh?” she said, voice layered with a thick Nymian accent. “You did your research.” She jerked her head to the side. “Follow me.”

None of them moved, and the woman grinned wolfishly. “Come now, I don’t bite.” She crooned. “Unless you want me to, that is.” she shot an appreciative glance at Vash as she said it. He scowled in response, and she raised her eyebrows, looking even more delighted.

“We’d rather find our own way, actually.” He said. “I’m aware that you likely have far more information on these mountain trails than us,” his stare hardened, “but we’d prefer to navigate ourselves.”

The woman smiled again.

“I’m sure you can. You look very capable.” Cue another sweeping look. “Unfortunately, that’s not how things work around here.” she raised her arm, and they all gasped and moved away as several archers, glaring at them from behind linen headscarves, appeared from gaps in the rocks. The woman smiled again. “These fine ladies can hit a moving target from more than 200 metres away. They’ll have no difficulty skewering you.”

Vash scowled, seemingly considering the archers before raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. The woman smiled again.

“Good. Now,” she jerked her head again, “follow me.”

* * *

Matthew wiped the sweat from his forehead, grinning in triumph as he entered the low-ceilinged, stoned building which housed their prisoners. He’d been hard pressed to finish all of his tasks in time, but by some miracle, he’d done it, and volunteered to feed their prisoners. Young Aija had been slated to do it, and though she’d protested feebly, she’d given in and happily accepted the rare break she was being given. It was just lucky for Matthew that it hadn’t been one of Octavia’s regulars who were feeding them today. Aija didn’t really conform to a side, and in any case, seemed more afraid of the prisoners than anything.

It was only slightly cooler inside the prison, and Matthew had to pity their four captives. Most other places had fans or air conditioning at least, but this quartet had to sit and suffer. True to his expectations, all four seemed to have stripped off as many layers as they could, and were lying on the ground, staring almost vacantly. He suppressed his snort at the image and rapped on the bars. They all stirred, sitting up with what seemed to be a great deal of reluctance. Roderich, the dark-haired one, kicked his cousin as he sat up. Gilbert didn’t even try to hit his cousin back, instead choosing to grunt incomprehensibly and shut his eyes again. Matthew had to laugh at this, and upon hearing him, the albino opened his eyes, and sat up. There was a definitive blush on his face. Matthew sincerely hoped he wasn’t getting heatstroke.

He handed them their lunch, which they accepted happily. Tori looked ready to cry with happiness when she saw that he had acquired iced water for them. They drank it greedily, and Matthew sat down, leaning against the bars as he waited for them to finish eating. Given the speed at which all four of them ate, he didn’t have to wait long. He shuffled, readjusting his position when he noted Gilbert staring at him. He’d been forced to ditch more layers of clothing as the day passed. He was only wearing a white t-shirt, three-quarter black pants and his most ragged pair of boots. His shirt was clinging to him because he was sweating so much, and pulled at it a little, feeling self-conscious.

“So, how have you guys been? It’s been a while. You’re still being treated okay, I hope.” Gilbert grinned.

“Ah well, yeah, they’ve been kind enough, though none of them provide company nearly as lovely as yours.” The albino said, winking. Matthew laughed, hoping the low light would hide his blush. He saw Feliks roll his eyes, and forced himself to act a little more professionally. These were prisoners, after all, no matter how fun or charming they were.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you all.” he hesitated for a moment. He wanted, no, _needed_ to understand this whole crazy situation better, and they were the only ones who could possibly do it. They were all looking at him curiously now. He forced himself to meet their gazes. “About some things I’ve been hearing, about one of your friends, who apparently looks very similar to me.” He was surprised to see their looks of confusion vanish. They all nodded, and Feliks spoke up.

“Yeah, we figured you’d want to know sooner or later.” The Pyndaphian looked at him. “What do you know so far? We can build on that, if you want.” Matthew nodded, and sighed.

“Well, all I really know is that you all gawked at me the first time you saw me without my mask on, and Elizabeta told me that while she was a prisoner, she saw one of your bounty hunter friends, who apparently looks so similar to me it’s scary.” He levelled a gaze at them. “So? Can you explain any of that?” Feliks straightened his back a little.

“Do you have a brother?” he inquired. Matthew gave a shuddering sigh, and nodded. Feliks shrugged.

“Well, that’s it then. His name is Alfred, he’s 20. He’s told us that he lost his family in a series of raids in his home district in Rywan, when he was about 9, including an older brother. I’m assuming that you must be that same brother.” Matthew watched him, searching for any sign of a lie, turning away when he could not find one.

“I guess that makes sense.” He muttered, glaring at the wall across from him. “How did he become a bounty hunter?” Feliks seemed to flinch a little.

“Well, he apparently lost you when he was 9, and then…” the blond hesitated, “he told us that his parents abandoned him when was 11.” Matthew barely turned his head. He remembered their parent’s many complaints about how expensive the two of them were to feed, clothe and house. Evidently, after he’d been separated from them, they’d realised how much money they could save by dropping a kid.

“And then?” he prompted.

“He said he stayed at an orphanage for a few years. Got kicked out when he turned 15. I’m not entirely sure what happened after that, but we met him when he was about 17 or so, and he’s been with us ever since.” Matthew nodded, before standing.

“Thanks. That clears quite a few things up, actually.” He said, scratching the back of his neck. Feliks bobbed his head to the side awkwardly.

“No problem.” Matthew observed them for a moment. The professions they had chosen to follow were less than moral, but they weren’t bad people. Really, had they all been rebels rather than criminals, he had no doubt that he probably would have been friends with them. He shot them one last smile, before walking from the prison to rejoin the endless bustle of resistance life.

* * *

Alfred had honestly hoped that the less-than-desirable reception they’d received from the girl they’d encountered in the passage was unusual. He’d silently hoped that she was some sort of anomaly or someone whose track record was rife with disobedience. He had hoped that the rest of her people would be level-headed and understanding, that they would just let them go.

They didn’t.

To the immense relief of all 13 of them, the tribe they had stumbled upon were not one of the cannibalistic groups that they’d been warned against so severely. But they were hardly reassuring, either. The girl they’d followed, Natividad, seemed more amused by their pleas while they’d been chained up than anything. They had bargained, pleaded and begged, but they’d still ended up with cuffs digging into their wrists, and chains binding their torsos.

The others who had spotted them had exclaimed in delight, and he swore than he’d heard one of them murmur about ‘finally having some new playthings’. The very thought made him shudder. All they had wanted to do by coming here was rescue their friends. Apparently capture by hostile mountain tribes was also in order, though.

They stood in a large plateau, bordered on almost all sides by the steep rock cliffs of another sharp peak. There was a space in the rock, about four metres wide, which opened to a harsh drop. Just glancing at their distance from the ground had made Alfred nauseous and fearful. They had all been tied to an interlocked set of wooden posts. They’d tied them just far enough apart that they wouldn’t be able to plot an escape without their captors noticing.

Vash had been trying to talk and negotiate with a particularly fierce-looking elderly woman for close to an hour, but she seemed to be dismissing his every suggestion. Leon, frustrated with the situation, had taken to hurling what Alfred assumed was serious verbal abuse in Yanish. Mei looked about ready to join in, though Arthur was trying to stop both of them, making the good point that they would hardly help their case by continuing to shout. The teenager had finally calmed down a little, but was still clearly fuming, sending spiteful looks in the tribespeople’s direction. Arthur rolled his eyes at him, and Alfred had to stifle his small laugh at that.

As young as Arthur was, he constantly acted in an almost parental way towards the two of them. Leon and Mei were the smallest and youngest of his crew, and the pirate acted in an almost protective manner. Even from this distance, Alfred could see that Mei seemed to be shuffling as close to Arthur as possible. He didn’t blame her. She was only 15, after all, and some of the tribespeople had been leering at her in a suggestive way. Arthur had begun glaring at anyone who so much as glanced at her now. It was quite sweet, honestly. As harsh as he seemed sometimes, he did care about his crew a lot. As the thought crossed his mind, the pirate made eye contact with him. Alfred felt his face heat up, and averted his gaze, instead focussing on the people wandering around the clearing. He glanced at Arthur again. He looked like he was smirking now. He felt his face go even redder.

The woman which Vash was talking to seemed to be getting frustrated, throwing her hands up and growling out something in Nymian. Alfred swallowed. They were hoping that Vash would be able to negotiate with them. If successful, they would hopefully be allowed to continue their journey out of the Sulig Mountains. If not, well, they weren’t entirely sure what would happen to them. The woman let out a growl and stepped away from Vash. She spun, obviously looking for someone.

“Natividad!” she yelled. The girl who had brought them here jumped and scurried over. They began conversing furiously in Nymian, making Alfred wish, not for the first time, that he spoke the language. Vash was frowning. He was conversational in Nymian, so who knew how much the blond was actually understanding of the conversation.

“ _Althuwar_ ” The older woman hissed at her. The younger woman, Natividad, frowned and pulled away a little, sweeping her eyes over them sharply. They continued, lowering their voices a little when they noticed them watching.

“Well how was I supposed to know?” Natividad yelled suddenly. “They didn’t say anything, Emely!” the older woman, Emely, by Natividad’s admission, sighed and waved her hands dismissively. Looking deeply affronted, the girl scurried off, throwing a sharp look over her shoulder.

Emely didn’t attempt to talk to them, instead walking back towards the group of people. An air of nervousness suddenly seemed to surge through the clearing, and muttering broke out. It was almost unsettling; from their distance, the gentle, twisting words of their language formed a sound like a low hiss. Alfred shifted, wincing as he flicked his wrists slightly. They were tied above his head, and the bonds were cutting painfully into his skin. He could tell that all of the blood had probably drained out of them, and he winced just thinking about the awful pins and needles that he was going to have. Sighing, he leant his head back against the wooden posts.

Several more hours passed as they stood there uncomfortably, squirming as much as possible in their bonds. Knowing how highly skilled Vash was, the assassin probably was able to get out of his bonds, but didn’t, due to how visible they were.

Their only reprieve for the day came when the sun finally sunk below the mountain ridges to their right. The entire clearing was swathed in darkness, and, for the first time in hours, they were blessedly cool.

But even that wasn’t much of an upside. The cold quickly became too much for them to bear, and many of them were shaking where they stood. The tribe had lit several massive braziers in addition to numerous campfires, but none of them were close enough to warm their prisoners. Alfred groaned softly. The lot of them were tired, hungry and thirsty. He could tell that Matthias was in a great deal of pain, his arms being pulled above his head as they were, and Arthur also now looked ready to slump over where he stood. The guy really looked like he needed a good sleep. His mind wandered as he imagined how cute the blond would look while asleep, and he privately hoped that he wasn’t blushing too much.

His attention was caught when he saw Vash turning his head toward the opening passage in the sharp cliffs, brow furrowed. Not even a moment later, those closest to the passageway also stood, reaching for weapons. Alfred shook himself a little and straightened up, ignoring the burning in his wrists. The Nymians gathered around the entrance moved away as a woman appeared.

He blinked. It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting, for the amount of wariness which seemed to be present among the tribespeople. She was alone, and didn’t even seem to be that heavily armed. He exchanged a look with Francis. This night just kept getting weirder and weirder. The woman seemed to be observing the plateau, and her gaze locked onto them. She smirked slightly.

“Ahh, so _that_ is why you insisted on sending a guide to help us through the northern stretch.” She spun, facing Emely. “I thought we have made our agreement with you fairly clear.”

“We understand the terms perfectly.” Emely growled, jabbing a finger at them. “We only arrested them because they were travelling along the Gotev Peak. That is strictly Dolyagor territory.” The woman walked closer, frowning at all 13 of them in turn, before shaking her head.

“They aren’t ours.” She said, facing Emely again. “And in any case, you have no right to arrest _us_. We agreed that any Mugarobe presence you are free to deal with, but any other issues should be brought up with this region’s Suzerain, or us if it so applies.” She narrowed her eyes further. “You don’t bear the right to unlawfully detain people who are simply travelling through the area.”

“It is our territory they are infringing on. Should it not be our responsibility to also dole out any sort of punishment?” Emely retorted, looking very displeased. The woman faced her again.

“Have you even asked them what they are here for?” she asked. Emely scowled.

“No, Colonel Jakolin, I have not, but that is beside the point–” without waiting for her to finish, the woman, Colonel Jakolin, spun on her heel and marched towards them, stopping in front of Francis.

“Why have you been travelling through these mountains, exactly?” she asked, looking at them inquisitively. Francis glanced at Vash, who nodded slowly.

“We’re looking for the rebels.” He said cautiously. “They have some of our friends held captive.”

The Colonel turned slowly, raising an eyebrow at Emely tauntingly. “Not my business, hmm?” she turned back to them. “Well, good for you, I am a member of said rebels. If Emely is kind enough to let you go, I can escort you there.” They all exchanged looks, unable to believe their luck. Colonel Jakolin spun around again, once more facing the tribe. “Well? Release them.” There was a moment of total silence, before Emely jerked her head at three young men, who hastened towards them and began to remove their bonds. Alfred sighed in relief when the ropes dropped from around his wrists. Jakolin watched until they were all free of the posts, then raised her head a little.

“Okay, Lieutenant. We’re fine.”

Had Alfred not been looking beyond the wooden posts, he would not have noticed the person entering. He dropped from a higher ledge of stone, landing almost soundlessly. His position was given away only by the loud, startled shriek of a woman he landed next to. She staggered away, clutching her chest, while the other rebel approached, slinging what Alfred could see now was a sniper rifle over his shoulder. Natividad stared at the newcomer, a vicious glare overtaking her features as her shock faded. She started forward as Emely spoke again.

“I should have known that you wouldn’t come here alone.” The older woman smiled cruelly. “Even you are not brave enough to face us alone.” Colonel Jakolin smiled.

“Oh, I just thought it was about time you became acquainted. He’s half the reason that the Mugarobe haven’t pushed further into the mountains yet.” As the Lieutenant came further forward, Alfred saw that he was wearing loose, brown robes not unlike their own. It must have been how he’d blended in with the ledge so well. He was wearing a mask over the lower half of his face, but he shifted his hood just enough for them to catch a glimpse of messy, fair hair and dark brown eyes. Emely’s face lost every drop of colour, to the point that she looked pale and drawn despite her dark skin. She nodded, looking shaky.

“Alright.” She muttered. “You can have the intruders,” she jerked her head towards them, “just go.” The Colonel raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment, simply nodding by way of a response. She looked at their dirty, ragged band of criminals, and beckoned.

“Come on.” She said. “We’ll take you back to your friends.”

They were slow and cautious moving out of the clearing. Though this rebel and her friend seemed a little more trustworthy, they still weren’t willing to place a lot of faith in them. Alfred glanced over his shoulder as they exited the plateau. The tribespeople still looked pale and frightened. He threw a sidelong look at the Lieutenant who had apparently scared them so much. He was male, and much shorter than Alfred himself. But he’d been in the business of criminality for long enough to know that underestimating your opponent could be fatal. He shivered slightly. Clearly, this guy was scary enough to shock an entire group of people into silence.

The woman turned, grinning when she saw their pale, worried faces.

“Don’t worry,” she said, startling them slightly, “I promise we won’t tie you up like they did.” She faced the front again, but continued to speak as they shuffled down a sloped passage. “A bail should have been set for your friends. If you can pay it, we’ll release them and let you lot vanish as well.” Berwald, who had been characteristically silent throughout the whole incident with the Dolyagor tribe, suddenly spoke up.

“How long will it take to get to your base?” he mumbled. The Colonel frowned, squinting as she did a mental calculation.

“We’re going on foot, so maybe 3 days or so? I hope you don’t mind, but we will insist on blindfolding you when we get close.” They all nodded. Alfred shot Berwald an inquisitive look, curious about why he’d chosen to now speak up. His question was answered, however, when he saw the helping hand that Berwald was offering Matthias as they again started clambering over rocks. Their leader was still hurt, and as he was one of their best fighters, it didn’t bode well, if any sort of confrontation had to happen. Alfred hunched his shoulders as they followed Colonel Jakolin, hoping that this insane journey of theirs would finally draw to a close.

* * *

Octavia gazed up at the night sky, drawing in a tight breath as she rolled the pen in her fingers. She had to decide. To take action, or remain silent? The whole investigation around the spy had been a disaster, and if her theory was correct…well, there was little that any of them could do to delay their own destruction.

All of the clues were there. She had the motivation, the plan, the support…

But she still felt like there was a barrier standing between her and her goal. An insurmountable barrier which would always be in her way.

It wouldn’t even be hard for her to do, would it? She’d had support six years ago, and she had a large deal more now. This past week had been putting her through her paces, and she hadn’t stumbled or hesitated. She made harder decisions, didn’t waste as much time on useless debating.

And a lot of people seemed to agree with what she had to say.

“I don’t know.” She murmured. Major Zev Batbayaryn stood next to her, and it was their conversation which she had been considering.

“You’re still unsure?” he asked, eyes almost imploring. “How many times do I have to tell you? You have–”

“–the support, the numbers, the skill and the potential, yes, you’ve told me.” She finished, biting her lip as she cast her gaze earthward again. “But…I don’t know. It’s not a minor decision by any means. The implications could be huge…” she trailed off, pressing a hand delicately to her mouth as she considered it.

“Don’t you want the Union to pay?” Zev asked, sounding more aggressive now as he leapt to his feet. “Don’t you want them to feel what the true fury of the rebellion is?”

She whipped around to face him. “You think I don’t?” she snarled. “After what they’ve taken from me? My parents, my husband, my son, my sister…” she trailed off again, drawing in another deep breath. After the suffering she had endured and escaped on Daerna, how could he think that she didn’t hunger for justice?

“…I’m sorry.” Zev said. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just–” he broke off, dropping eye contact as he scratched the back of his head. “You’d be brilliant, that’s all I meant. You could really change things. Please,” he moved in front of her now, clasping her shoulders, “let me take care of the communications. I’m good with computers, you know me. Let’s do it. Even if we don’t succeed, no-one can say that we haven’t stood up for what we believe in.”

She hesitated again, sighing. “I still don’t think this is wise…” Zev’s grip tightened.

“Octavia.” His gaze was almost too intense and pleading for her to meet. “Do it.”

The air hung between them, charged with their collective doubts and fears. But beneath her fear, she could feel it; a level of burning, charged anticipation. She nodded.

“Okay, we’ll do it.”

He smiled in response, finally releasing her shoulders, nodding in satisfaction. “Okay. Thank you.” He turned to go back inside his tent, before glancing back briefly. “This won’t go wrong.” He said. Octavia levelled a look at him, very much so certain that he was wrong, but she didn’t comment. Without another word between the two, she turned away, and again turned to gaze at the sky.


	27. A Parade of the Condemned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nyehehe... I'm back! A lot faster this time, too. I managed to finish this chapter in about one night, so that's why you guys aren't waiting a month for this next update. Agghhh! We're finally at a part I have been waiting to write for agesss. I honestly didn't think I'd make it this far, but hey, I surprise even myself sometimes.
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- The Bounty hunters and pirate briefly got captured by a mountain tribe. Luckily, a pair of rebel fighters came across them and freed them. They are now on their way to the rebel base in earnest. Arthur and Matthias are both still suffering from poor health.  
> \- Matthew spoke with Feliks, Tori, Gilbert and Roderich about his brother. He is uneasy about the odd change of pace around the resistance recently. He also asked Vlad to protect Lukas and Emilia if need be, which has spiked the other's curiosity.  
> \- Octavia is planning something (which will FINALLY be revealed in this chapter).
> 
> NAMES:  
> Ines Jakolin: Slovenia  
> Mei: Taiwan  
> Leon: Hong Kong (in case anyone forgot)  
> Ehsan Karimi: Iran  
> Kabeeta Tripathi: Nepal  
> Ayshe Kartal: Ottoman Empire (I'm aware that Turkey is the Ottoman Empire in the anime, but here she's a separate person)
> 
> Please give me lots of lovely comments! I like knowing if my readers are satisfied or not! \\('-')/

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma  
22 nd Maarch

Octavia reclined against the wall, drawing in a breath. It was just after dawn, and light was just starting to spread across the roofs of their tents. She could almost feel the silence around her. Normally, the resistance buzzed with activity. But in these dark, fledgling hours of the day, hardly a soul stirred. The only ones awake were those with night duties, and even they would be retiring to bed by this time, as their day-worker counterparts awoke and began the day. The only real sound came from the whittler-birds which had started to roost in the trees above them, and the soft scraping of scorpions burrowing into the dark sand.

She had sent out the call to her closest allies not long ago. Most of them wouldn’t see it for another few hours, until they woke up, but she wanted it to be out there as soon as possible. She knew that the word could spread through the day, delivered by and to her most trusted friends, those who she knew would support her in this endeavour.

Distantly, Octavia wondered what her sister would say to this. Helena had been older, smarter, sharper and wiser. Every word she spoke had held weight in this rebellion. From the first day of the expansion, she had been a devoted soldier. The death of her husband on Daerna wasn’t enough to break her spirit. Rather than run and hide in fear, she had taken her son and _lived_. She had continued to fight, and taught everyone else around her to do the same.

It hadn’t been anything resembling a surprise when her sister had started to gain promotions. She held the rank of Lieutenant General in just three years. Octavia had wanted, more than anything, to be like her elder sister. Helena had been respected by everyone she came across. She was one of Arshad Teymouri’s closest confidantes, and had been a vital part of his council for years. And, without fail, her sister was always right.

She had advised Arshad against sending soldiers to the Ventak stretch in Daerna. A week later, the entire area was demolished with the strongest bombs the Union had to offer. Helena had told Arshad to travel to Misor to answer the call of a supposed sympathiser. Rather than be exposed, the resistance had gained over a hundred new members, all ostracised by the new pro-Union regime. Helena had stood firm against a council of 14 others who declared her wrong, and stood by her statement that Blackbird, the rebel accused of allowing the Arden Massacre, was innocent until proven guilty. Months later, when the truth came tumbling out, Helena had held her head proudly, revelling in her intuition while 13 others hung their own in shame and reconsidered their own perceptions.

Always right…without fail. But what would she say to this? Octavia could imagine her sister’s viewpoint going either way. On the one hand, Helena had always told her to stand up for what she believed, to be brave and strong and do what it took to protect the ones she loved. But on the other hand...Helena didn’t believe on judging people based on petty factors. Octavia had brought herself to admit that her suspicions were not based on innocent perception. Despite her best efforts, there was a part of her which fuelled her observations with a tirade of vicious commentary. She tried her best to silence that part of her. After all, he had treated her with immense kindness in the past. She didn’t forget that.

But this went beyond that. The rebellion was at risk once more from a spy in their ranks. She couldn’t live with herself if she was responsible for another massacre through her own disinterest. She could be wrong; more horribly wrong than she had ever been. The chance that her perception was without error was small. But the feeling of wrongness which had sat in her gut for weeks could not be ignored. It just couldn’t. She had to do something, or risk facing the wrath of her own besieged conscience.

Octavia glanced around. Zev was making sure that all of their preparations were properly in place. He had been so eager that she had agreed to let this happen, but unlike normal, his excitement had failed to rub off on her. She ran her hands up her forearms anxiously. Despite Zev’s, and her own assurances that this was the right thing, guilt was hollowing out a canyon in her stomach. She shook her head slightly. She needed to get her head on straight, if she was going to do this and do it right. Nonetheless…

“Forgive me.” She murmured as she straightened up and brushed invisible specks of dirt from her plain uniform. Octavia turned on her heel, marching toward her tent, toward a revolution.

* * *

_South-East Border of Coysashi Territory,_  
Nyma,  
22 nd Maarch

It was to the eternal chagrin of the group of them when they were roused by dawn breaking. They had slept on a small stone plateau, quite low compared to the rest of the ragged mountains, but there had been nothing to shield their eyes from the burning brightness of the sun on their cheeks.

Mei’s mood plunged even further into the depths of irritation when she saw that their guides, the two rebels, were already awake, with all of their possessions packed away, looking impatient. She shuddered slightly as the Colonel’s eyes fell upon her, frowning as the woman watched her quickly pack her meagre supplies into a ratty bag, which she quickly slung over her shoulder.

Despite the pain which he must have been in, Matthias raised an eyebrow, looking disgruntled. As he opened his mouth to speak, most likely to complain about something, the young man – whom they still knew only as ‘Lieutenant’ tossed him an apple. Catching it with surprising deftness, though the movement was accompanied by a wince, the vivacious blond stared at it for a moment, before shrugging and starting to eat. Mei rolled her eyes. Clearly, breakfast had been what was on his mind. She patted herself down to ensure she had everything, before darting after the group, which had already begun to move.

Mei glared at the back of the rebels’ heads. Honestly, though walking with them at the crack of dawn was vastly preferable over imprisonment at the hands of the mountain tribe, the whole situation still unnerved her. The woman, who had told them her name was Ines Jakolin, had explained that the tribe which had captured them was known as the Dolyagor. As Jakolin had said, they were mostly harmless, but that they had never been completely content with certain agreements they’d made. As such, foreigners travelling through their territory made them antsy. The way Jakolin had said it, it sounded like nothing really bad would have happened to them. Nonetheless, Mei _was_ grateful that they were now free of them. Even if their ‘guides’ might be little more than a new set of captors.

Speaking truthfully, Colonel Jakolin herself seemed friendly so far, and had never tried to pry about their situation, or even how they had been captured, for which most of them were grateful. No, it was her companion who unnerved them all. Though Jakolin might not be someone who Mei might want to be intimately acquainted with, she at least acted like a normal human being. The Lieutenant was like some sort of robot. His stamina never seemed to flag, he woke up seemingly before everyone else, and never spoke to any of them. As if to add to his mysterious and detached air, his face was concealed from them. He wore a black mask resembling those worn by bikers over his mouth, and a set of reflective goggles which hid his eyes. The only part of his appearance that Mei had been able to glean was that he had fair skin and slightly messy blond hair. He clutched his gleaming sniper rifle like a child would a beloved doll. He unnerved her, and everyone else, too. According to Ines, it would take them about another two or three days to reach their base. She honestly wasn’t sure that she wanted to spend so much time in the Lieutenant’s company.

Mei glanced around at their odd band of travellers. Though Matthias seemed okay, being helped along by Berwald as he was, their own boss was lagging behind. She shifted her gaze, and her eyes met Leon’s. He nodded at her slightly, and she began to slow her steps a little, until she had fallen into step beside Arthur. She nudged him slightly with her shoulder. He looked at her, and she sucked in an alarmed breath.

His skin was as pale and wan as it had been when they’d arrived on Nyma, and his eyes, normally a bright and vivid green, were dull as moss on a riverbed and framed by dark circles which cut sharply into his cheekbones. Mei’s eyes widened, and Arthur tilted his head away, smiling bitterly. As she opened her mouth to speak, Leon stepped into place on Arthur’s other side, raising an eyebrow at their boss.

“So, are you actually going to tell us what is going on with you this time, or will it be more stoic silence?” Leon asked coolly. Arthur’s jaw clenched, and Leon sighed. “Got it. You know, it wouldn’t kill you to tell us how we can help.”

“I’m aware.” Arthur said sharply. Leon rolled his eyes.

“Right, of course.” He muttered, sounding almost resentful. Mei couldn’t help but echo a little of his emotions. She had always thought that Arthur trusted Leon and her. She knew that she would trust him with just about anything. Whatever was ailing him, though, he was being stubbornly silent on. Her train of thought was interrupted when Arthur stumbled. Without even thinking, she lurched forward and grabbed his arm to steady him. Leon, she saw, had done the same. Arthur blinked, looking from her to him, before drawing himself up a little.

“Thank you.” He murmured. Mei sighed. Despite everything, despite how angry Leon could get about things, she knew that the two of them would always try to help Arthur. Even if the blond tried to shove them away or dismiss them, they would always try to be of use to him, until the end. After what he had done for them, it felt only right. Mei felt like she could never repay him properly. She had tried to get him to accept money, favours, anything really. He had rejected it all.

She still remembered the last time she had attempted to give him money, barely six months ago.

* * *

_Mei shifted from foot to foot, trying to gather up the courage to knock. Even after over two and a half years in his service, seeing Arthur was still a daunting action. The recent expungement of multiple crew members didn’t help her nerves. She and Leon had held fast, saying that they wanted to stay. The look he’d given her then had been almost frightening. She had only just turned fifteen, and she knew that a part of the Captain wanted to tell her to take some money and get a proper education and job. But he was too proud to show what he was feeling. Even though she and Leon were far from the most skilled, or even the most valuable on his crew, he hadn’t argued with them, and hadn’t pushed them to leave, either. His answer to their declaration had been a simple shrug of the shoulders and a dismissive, “Whatever you wish”._

_Finally growing tired of her own anxiety, Mei leaned forward and knocked, sharp and loud, on the door. She withdrew her hand immediately, as if the cool metal would scald her, and rubbed her hands together as a low voice called “Come in!” from beyond. The door slid open, and she stepped inside._

_They had only had this new ship, lovingly christened the ‘SS Mutiny’, for a few months, but Arthur’s room already felt as lived in as his previous one onboard their old ship, the SS Renegade. His bed was unmade, it’s many blankets strewn around haphazardly. The walls were covered in photographs, newspaper clippings and blueprints – the layout of everything ranging from a telescope to a high-security vault was visible on his walls. He had opted out of using the overhead light, and she could see the Captain himself sitting by his beloved antique desk, scrawling away by the light of a small gas lamp. He didn’t bother to look up as she came in. He never really did._

_“Yes, Mei?” he inquired as he pulled another sheaf of paper from his desk and began to skim his eyes over something. She hesitated. He had reacted badly to her offer last time._

_“Uh, I just wanted to talk to you.” This actually made him pause, and he glanced up, bright green eyes making her chest constrict._

_“About what?” he asked slowly, placing his pen down on the table’s surface. She averted her eyes, unable to meet his gaze._

_“I just, I mean…” she trailed off, seizing hold of her courage as she continued. “I’ve been earning a lot recently, as I’m sure you know. I’ve done some calculations, and I think I could start to pay it off. I have nearly fifty thousand marks saved right now, I could start from that–”_

_She broke off as Arthur’s hands landed on her shoulders. She cast her eyes downward. She’d done this several times before. He had never reacted well to it. To her surprise, however, he didn’t sound angry when he spoke._

_“Mei….” He trailed off, seeming to be lost for words. Gathering the remnants of her courage, she looked up and met his eyes. He looked as lost as he sounded. Arthur loosed a great sigh, and his hands dropped from her shoulders, and he rubbed at his forehead. “How many times do we have to do this before you understand?” her stomach dropped, and she expected an angry rebuke for her actions. Hanging her head, she waited for him to get angry._

_Suddenly, Arthur’s hands were back on her shoulders. She met his gaze again._

_“How many times do I have to explain that I will never make you pay me back for that?” he shook his head. “Honestly, Mei, we’ve been through this before. I don’t care if you become the richest woman in the galaxy, I will never accept a cent from you.” She blinked._

_“Arthur…” she trailed off, feeling her eyes prickle as she looked down. Mei tugged at her loose shirt. “I just…it was a lot of money, that’s all.” Arthur shrugged._

_“I earned back everything I paid and more in about six months. Trust me when I said it wasn’t a massive financial burden. Besides, I feel I have benefitted more from our arrangement than you have.” Mei shook her head, feeling tears start to run down her cheeks._

_“Impossible.” She scoffed gently, turning away._

_“Hey,” Arthur took her face in his hands, expression shockingly gentle, “not a cent, okay? You don’t need to repay me for anything.”_

_Mei’s composure lasted for about ten seconds, before she began to sob in earnest. Arthur withdrew a little, glancing toward the door, which was firmly shut, before he wrapped his arms around her and brought her into a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, shaking slightly._

_After a few moments, she pulled away, laughing wetly as she dried her eyes. Arthur offered her a handkerchief, which she took with a quiet word of thanks. He was smiling slightly._

_“I’ll consider that cost to be fully repaid if you never tell anyone about that.” He said. Giggling, she nodded, crumpling his handkerchief in her hands. He sighed, shaking his head a little. “Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked, tone cool and calm again. She nodded, and he smiled at her again, just as gentle as before. “In that case,” he said, “you have duties on the deck with Eduard, do you not?” straightening up, she had nodded, giving the Captain a mock salute before scurrying from his room, already feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders._

* * *

He had always given her what she needed. He hadn’t done what he had the day of the windy, downtown auction in South-Eastern Xexei because he was looking for some sort of favour from her. He had done it, and she genuinely believed this, because he was a good person. He didn’t need to spend so much money for her. He could have walked away, but he’d chosen to help someone in need. She wasn’t keen on leaving his service any time soon, if ever. Though he never vocalised it, Mei knew that Leon felt the same.

She was pulled from her reverie when they stopped walking. Somehow, in the middle of her reminiscing, she’d ended up with her arms around Arthur’s shoulders, supporting him. Leon had done the same. Arthur gently shook them off, shooting her a small, pained smile as he limped over to where the others were lowering themselves to the ground to rest.

Mei frowned, but didn’t dare try to ask about his health again. Arthur had had fluctuating health issues for, as far as she knew, as many as five years now, but he had never let on what sort of issues they were. She’d had to, at one point, inject him with something, but he had never told her what it was, what it was for, or what it did exactly. She knew it wasn’t really her place to ask, but her curiosity continued to burn and simmer nonetheless. Shaking her head to rid it of such thoughts, she seated herself next to Yael, happily accepting the food passed to her, wishing she could ignore her own deep-seated fear that, despite all that he said, this time Arthur wouldn’t be okay again.

* * *

The atmosphere had shifted since this morning.

If Yao had been on edge before, he was experiencing full-blown paranoia by the time the sun began to sink in the sky. All day, he had noticed the odd behaviour of those around him. Some, like Matthew, had been unchanged in their demeanour, but he noted the pairs of eyes which followed his movements. They almost seemed to increase throughout the day.

His skin crawled with the weight of their stares. He had swivelled to face one such observer more than once, only to have them drop their gaze, and in many cases, cease their conversations as well. He knew that he had more eyes on him, but the camp had been quieter than normal today as well. He had people’s ears trained on him as well, it seemed. For the life of him, he couldn’t discern why. He knew that, given the whole situation with Dana, many people harboured resentful feelings toward him at the moment. But this was less an opposition to his decision than it was a silent tirade of suspicion.

He had been uneasy all day, his feelings of discomfort rising to an almost exponential level. It had peaked about an hour ago, wherein his paranoia had been bad enough so as to make him physically sick. He had calmed himself down a little since then, but still felt exposed. It was as though their stares were picking him apart, slicing through his barriers, both physical and mental, and laying him bare for the whole world to see. He felt violated and raw, like every secret he had ever held was being whispered in the ear of every rebel around him.

He drew in a breath as he observed the latest analysis reports from their sources around Syhvva. Most of the rebel groups there operated underground, unable to do much for fear of being discovered. Though no Syhvvanian would ever betray another, the entire planet crawled with guards and Union soldiers. Many others would have looked at the bare basics of the defences on the planet and dismissed it as an impossible goal. Yao looked at it and felt a thrill of excitement. _A real challenge_ , his mind murmured, already skimming over how their many security systems and fail-safes could be overridden. He forced his attention away. They didn’t have the sort of traction and stability that they needed to make a move on any of the Free Courts. Even if they did, in any case, Syhvva would not be their first target. They had strong ties with the Fynknian Rebel Front, and Daerna’s defence was the weakest of the three. Either of those two would make a more fitting place to start taking the fight to the Union’s front door.

He smiled ruefully. They knew slightly more about Syhvva’s current predicament than those of the other two, but the information was essentially useless, given how incredibly weak their position there was. His gaze drifted to the vast console to his right. Raneem was manning the controls today, and was helping funnel communications around the room. No matter what time of day or night, their comm tent was always alive with noise. It was the place from which they received and transmitted signals and other messages. Many years ago, he had been on the other side, desperately broadcasting a message containing vital information into open space, praying that the equipment in this room would register it. Raneem had briefly been his contact – the person to which he passed his information – during that time. He nodded at her as he passed, and she shot him a kind smile back. Though not dispelled, his nerves were soothed, and he stepped outside the tent.

Despite the lateness of the day, heat still lingered in the air, as was customary on Nyma. A gentle wind somewhat alleviated the effects of the temperature, though, and he sighed as he felt himself cool down slightly. He wished that he could discard the full-length clothing he always wore, but until he saw someone more severely scarred than himself, it just wasn’t a viable option. He had never wanted to be pitied.

Even in his first days off the Arbiter, after the daring, seemingly-impossible mission undertaken by some of the rebellion’s best which had helped him regain his freedom, he had hated to be looked at with pity. He had been reluctant to see Kabeeta again. She was their head medic, and a miracle at surgery, but he had _known_ her. He’d helped her in the infirmary during the one period of time he’d stayed at the actual resistance before his capture. At that time, given the mental and physical state he was in, he didn’t think he could have stood another person’s sympathy and horror.

But Kabeeta had greeted him with kindness, even managing to do so without a trace of pity in her face. She had fixed him up as much as possible, and kept him strictly to his bed for weeks, but she had never said anything resembling ’sorry’. That was part of what had managed to pull him back from the distant, detached state he had been in before. For weeks after he was freed, he been unreachable. He spoke to no-one, hadn’t responded to anything or anyone. Not even the appearance of a silent, regretful Arshad could draw him from his stupor. Kabeeta’s careful ministrations, Kari and Romeo’s almost daily visits, and his growing familiarity with Ayshe – the fighter who had personally saved him – had brought him back to himself.

Slipping his gloved hands into his pockets, he wove between the tents, deigning to occasionally call out or raise a hand in greeting when he spotted someone with whom he was more closely acquainted. The eyes were still following him, but rather than anxious, he now felt weary, down to his bones. This entire week – no, this entire _month_ – had been hectic and exhausting. He felt prepared to lay down on the ground and sleep for the rest of his life. As someone who hadn’t slept a proper eight hours a night since he was about 25, that said a lot.

The atmosphere shifted again, some of the watchers on his side withdrawing and turning the other way, as he felt new gazes pierce the back of his neck.

Yao went rigid, and spun on his heel, heart nearly stuttering to a stop.

Octavia stood a few metres from him, hands clasped professionally behind her back.

“Good afternoon, Yao,” she said coolly, “can we talk for a moment?”

* * *

The message had spread throughout her loyal masses during the day, just as she’d wanted. It had been less subtle than she had hoped for – Yao had looked pale and drawn since late morning – but the message was out. Ismeta had been lingering by the communications tent for close to an hour when she had come to Octavia, to tell her that Yao was finally moving again. Octavia drew in a deep breath, turned to Zev, and nodded once. It was about time that they settled this.

Some of her underlings had circled around him, like they’d discussed. Standing in front of him now, she very nearly lost her nerve. Shaking herself slightly, she drew herself up a little, reminding herself with a glance that she had Zev on her left and Ehsan on her right. Yao looked confused, even a little scared.

“Good afternoon, Yao,” she began, internally celebrating when she managed to sound calm and controlled, “can we talk for a moment?”

The man was silent and still, staring at them all for a moment. She could understand his shock. He was completely surrounded by rebels, most of which, if not all, had weapons drawn. None of them were pointed at him, but their visibility was enough. Whatever colour remained in Yao’s face fled.

“What about, exactly?” he asked, voice croaking a little. Octavia shifted a little.

“I had hoped to have the conversation in private, truth by told.” It was what she had intended – for the whole affair to be quiet and subtle. Yao’s eyes narrowed, and he cast his gaze around them.

“And will they all be part of that ‘private discussion’ as well?” he asked, gesturing to them with a broad sweep of his arm.

She remained silent, tilting her chin stubbornly. He fidgeted. “What is this about, Octavia?” Yao’s voice was quiet, borderline deadly. Despite the courage of her supporters, she could see some of them flinching away nonetheless. Octavia had never personally witnessed Yao’s temper at full force, but many here had. _It must be fearsome_ , she thought. _Let’s hope it does not show itself here_.

“The past few weeks, the entire resistance has been absorbed in the hunt for a spy. We know several things about them. We know they supposedly wear long clothing a great deal of the time, to hide advanced audio recording technology. We know that they possess technological skill. We know that they have been with the resistance for anywhere between four and twelve years. We know that they have high clearance.” She levelled a look at him, pouring every ounce of fury which she felt into it. “Do you want me to continue?” Yao stared at her.

“You…you think I’m the spy?” He said. His tone was quiet, shocked, on the verge of completely disbelieving. Octavia glared at him.

“I believe what is in front of me.” She snapped. “Who here knows what you look like without those long sleeves on, or those gloves? You have the highest clearance possible. You are awake at all hours, which would make it only too easy for you to pass information undetected. You have been working for the resistance for over ten years.”

“Octavia–” Yao started. She cut him off.

“No-one here could give your age, or your birthplace, or any personal details about you beyond your name!” She was shouting now, but didn’t particularly care. If it was him…if he was responsible for endangering everyone within this rebellion…

“I am not a traitor!” he yelled in response. “Do you really think that rebels are so stupid as to elect someone they don’t trust?”

“I am not a judge on what everyone was thinking six years ago. And, in any case, everyone can be manipulated, and results can be tampered with.” Yao was staring at her, despondent. She raised her chin again.

“I am not a spy.” He said quietly, sounding shell-shocked. Octavia hardened her gaze.

“That’s what you say.” She stared at him disdainfully. “You’ve been considered a traitor, before, Blackbird. What’s the difference now?” She saw the shift in his eyes. The sound of his old codename brought a flash of emotion into his eyes. With a small shock, Octavia realised she had actually hurt him.

She turned to two rebels standing by. “Take him.”

The two unslung their flint rifles from their backs and approached him. He took a step back, but was unable to move away as they seized his arms. He struggled, attempting to pull away. Octavia frowned, starting forward a little. She was wise enough to know that Yao was much stronger than he looked. He looked stunned, even as he struggled against their grips.

“I am not a traitor!” he spat at her, still trying to pull away from his captors. She bit her lip briefly, before she turned back to the two guards, who were looking at her inquisitively.

“Hinder.” She stated simply, feeling slightly sick even as the command left her mouth. The guard gripping Yao’s left didn’t hesitate. He seized the blunt bat hooked on his belt, slamming it into Yao’s left knee. His leg bent inwards sickeningly, though Yao didn’t make so much as a sound. He drew in a sharp breath, but didn’t cry out, even as the awful popping noise of a joint dislocating met Octavia’s ears. She locked her jaw, forcing down her nausea as Yao staggered, before being dragged back upright by the two rebels. Again, they looked to her for her decision. She nodded.

“Octavia,” Yao groaned, voice slick with pain as the two began to drag him away, toward the separate cell which they had decided to keep him in, “I’m not a traitor, please, you know that.” Octavia shook her head, trying to drown out his pleas.

“I don’t know that.” She said stubbornly. He stared at her, and she saw the last spark of hope die in his eyes. Knowing that he would stop fighting, she turned away.

“I brought your sister home for you.” He whispered.

Her entire body seized up, and she clenched her hands into fists as tears gathered in her eyes.

“I know.” She said, voice thick. “And I thank you for that, Yao, I do. But this needs to be done.” He was silent for a moment. “Have doubt in everything, and you will be able to predict anything.” She recited quietly.

“Even me?” he asked quietly. Octavia twisted slightly, finally meeting his eyes.

“Yes, Yao, even you.” She responded. He closed his eyes briefly, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Fair enough.” He murmured. Octavia jerked her head to the two rebels again, and they continued, pulling a now complacent Yao away from the small crowd of rebels. Zev placed a hand on her shoulder as the Yanish man disappeared from view, but she jerked away from it, whirling around and marching off as she dried her tears.

This didn’t feel right at all.


	28. The Upheaval We Sow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANNNDDDD I'M BACK!!! YAY!  
>  Did you guys enjoy my lil' cliffhanger (that wasn't really a cliffhanger but whatever let me live and dream)??  
>  I feel bad because this chapter didn't even bust 4000 words, but hey, the one after this is over 7000, so pls forgive me =D  
>  Please tell we what you think!
> 
> Also, for whatever god-given reason, I decided to make a tumblr page for this fanfic exclusively. Now, I am very lonely, so please come and talk to me! It's very sad right now, so feel free to laugh at my page. Seriously, if you're down in the dumps, it'll make you feel better! Feel free to ask questions, or i can give updates on where I am with my writing, and maybe post some bonus scenes if I have the time, so yeah, come and join me!!
> 
> [My Sad Tumblr](https://huntingthestarsandetc.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I would greatly appreciate the company!
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTICE! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF CHEESE READ THIS!!!  
>  I have decided that I need to split this story into more than one part. The word doc where I have this written already struggles to open and save. At this point, we are a few chapters from the end of Part One of the story. Once this part is done, I will probably fix this story up a little (because I had no solid plan for it's overarching story when I started it) and just fix up a few key details, maybe fix up some parts which are shittily written (which is all of it, lol). After that, Part Two will start. It won't be too long after the end of this.  
>  Part Two is a work in progress in my mind (and so far, it's awesome), and I do have a solid plan. As you may have noticed, this work is part of a series. If you are interested in reading this beyond the end of part one, you'll need to subscribe to the series to get notified when Part 2 finally appears. If you don't want to keep reading, I thank you dearly for your commitment and support so far. You'll miss all the slow burn and gayness, but whatever suits. Not entirely sure how many chapters are left in Part One. I can say there'll be no more than 35 in this part, so we are nearing the end.
> 
> Now! Onto the chapter!!

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,  
23rd Maarch

Matthew strode past the command tent, heart pounding in his chest. He threw a single, vilified look behind him as he did so, irritation surging when he saw the two rebels behind him not react to it. He had been trying to get them to let him go past to talk to Yao for over two hours. He had missed his shift down by the munitions tent, and was late to sift through the latest casualty reports from the front, but he could hardly find it in him to be bothered by either of those facts.

He had missed the confrontation between Octavia and Yao, but he had watched the proud man be hauled towards the prison itself, leg twisted at an unnatural angle, face blank and drawn. Matthew cursed, kicking at the hardened dirt in front of him. He should have predicted this. The hunt for their spy had taken a sinister turn as it had become more and more known about. Octavia’s recent surge in administrative duties, and the enhanced presence of her most loyal supporters…he should have realised what she was planning. He’d been foolish and blind, and now Yao was sitting in a cell because of it. Octavia had made sure, at the very least, that Yao’s knee joint had been re-located, so he wasn’t in constant pain.

The resistance had gone into an effective lockdown. Communications were being monitored very closely, and many regular training divisions had been temporarily put on hold. Octavia had assumed temporary leadership, with others in high positions, like Aelia Gabras and Ehsan Karimi helping her make decisions and try to explain her reasoning behind Yao’s imprisonment. Those loyal to Yao had come out in force yesterday. Matthew had been simultaneously crushed and buoyed to see how many still placed their faith in their real leader. If they had only been there to support him when Octavia had had him cornered…

Matthew shook his head. The only positive which had come of this situation was that Dana Milevski had finally been released from prison. The committee overseeing her case had found the evidence against her weak and insubstantial. Given that they had a much more interesting suspect, not many people had bothered maintaining an air of doubt anyway. Dana had been happy to be released for about five minutes, before someone had let slip that Yao was now the primary suspect. The tirade of verbal abuse she had thrown at Octavia and her supporters had quickly made many of them regret releasing her. Matthew couldn’t agree with her anger more.

Matthew still remembered what had happened in 4506CC. He had placed his trust in Yao then, and had never regretted it since.

Arshad Teymouri hadn’t even been dead for a fortnight when talk of electing a new leader had begun to swim around the masses. Matthew had been 16, and luckily for him, within the age for voting in the resistance. As was customary, any officer holding a high position, as well as anyone who was closely related or acquainted with the former leader, had gathered in an electoral tribunal. Over the course of about four hours, those inside had discussed the circumstances around Arshad’s death, and spoke about the election of a new leader.

The one thing which Matthew had actually been permitted to know at the time was that Arshad had left no indication of who he wanted to succeed him. Normally, that was what a leader did. The leader before Arshad, whose name Matthew believed had been Romeska Vance, had recommended Arshad personally. No-one at the time had argued, and so Arshad had been elected. But Teymouri, according to those who knew him best, evaded tradition constantly. He had advised them to pick a new leader on their own. As Raneem had once deigned to explain to him, prospective leaders had then been recommended by their closest friends or supporters. They had been nearing the end of the meeting when Yaretzi Chapula, reportedly without preamble or warning, had stood and declared that she thought Yao Wang would be a good fit.

Back then…Yao had been different. In Matthew’s opinion, it had been the past six years of acting as a listener, counsellor, teacher and paternal figure which had warmed Yao’s disposition and attitude. At the time, he had been very different. Matthew had heard of him when the election had come about, but what he remembered hearing had not been very comforting. Six years ago, Yao had only held the position of Lieutenant, and had been permitted in that meeting because he was close friends with Arshad. He had been, to put it simply, cold.

Matthew had seen Yao, back then, as having been like a glass bottle. The way people described him – using only the terms ‘before’ and ‘after’ to explain whatever transformation had taken place in between – had helped Matthew think of the analogy. ‘Before’, Yao was smooth, calm and kind and gentle. He was transparent and didn’t lie. He was undamaged, like the surface of a glass bottle. ‘After’, he was like a bottle which had been broken and put together all wrong – he was sharp, composed of jagged angles. He was dangerous and unapproachable, and more likely to hurt you than help you.

The only thing which had come to mind when Yao’s name was mentioned back then was a single word – ruthlessness. Kabeeta had referred to a whole other creature when explaining Yao to Matthew one day while he helped her in the infirmary. She had spoken of someone soft-spoken and kind. Someone who had never batted an eye at the awful treatment they received based on their race – someone who, rather than be bitter after getting barred from official meetings, as Yao was, had instead thrown their energy into helping where they could. He had been a man so beloved by the war refugees and injured children that he helped that he had become known as ‘Uncle Yao’ to many of them. When Matthew had expressed disbelief at this, Kari – then 18 and possessing seemingly infinite wisdom – had snorted at him and nodded.

“It might seem hard to believe,” she had said to him, “but yes, that’s exactly what he was like.”

Yao was ruthless – that was how everyone had known him. He could look on scenes of carnage without so much as a flinch. He could kill without batting an eye. The most painful of injuries garnered barely a wince from Yao Wang. That was what everyone had said. So, when it had become known that he was officially a candidate, Matthew had been more than a little sceptical.

“He seems kind of scary, though.” He remembered whispering to Abel one night as they had been talking about the election. His tall friend had lolled his head in his direction, and nodded a little.

“Yeah, he does. But he would be really good, I think.” Abel had muttered. Matthew had sat up then.

“Why do you think so?” he had asked. Abel had shrugged.

“Well, Arshad only died because he was trying to find his sister, right? I was just thinking…well, Yao doesn’t have a family, does he? He wouldn’t get distracted by stuff like that.” Matthew had shrugged, unable to dispute his friend’s good point, and the pair had gone to sleep.

Matthew really should have left it at that and just chosen another candidate, but Yao had fascinated him. He had thought that there was no way someone like that could be completely cold and hard. He had sought out any sign of kindness or warmth. His investigation had resulted in him accidentally running into Yao several times – literally in one case. Finally, though, the day before their ballots had to be submitted, he had found the gap.

A few months previous to the election, a mission to Beldent, a besieged rebel outpost on Rywan, had gone horribly wrong. Helena Papadopoulos, holding the high position that she did, had been ordered by Arshad Teymouri to try and liberate the outpost. Yao had been one of the fighters selected to go along as well. It had been intended to be a brief mission, over quickly, with everyone intended to return home safely. But, it hadn’t gone that way. There had been far more Union personnel at the base than had been anticipated, and, as the crew sent to help had discovered too late, the remainders of their allies inside had been massacred. The group of twenty had been almost completely decimated. Yao, as well as two others, had been the only ones to make it back. Helena, one of the resistance’s best fighters at the time, had been killed inside Beldent. As Matthew had managed to wrangle out of one of the other survivors, Yao, upon hearing of Helena’s death, had rushed back inside the base, swiftly retrieved her body – for which he had suffered two bullets to the gut – and made it back to their ship to escape.

The significance had eluded Matthew, until the woman had explained that, on Daerna, it was an incredibly important custom for the dead to be buried. The Daernic royal family had long associated with earth, just like the Fynknians associated with water, and the Syhhvanians associated with fire. It was a tradition which dated back over 7000 years. Helena had been Octavia’s older sister, and Yao had brought back the woman’s body to ensure that her younger sibling had something to bury.

Matthew remembered the shock he had felt at the time. The cold, sharp Lieutenant…had risked his life in order to respect the traditions of a planet and culture to which he did not belong and had never even visited or experienced. Later that night, Matthew had returned to his cramped room, pulled his ballot out from his desk, definitively selected Yao, and dropped it off the next morning, without so much as a doubt in his mind that he had made the right decision.

Yao had won the election by a landslide, and had devoted every ounce of his being to leading their movement ever since. The thought of him being condemned as a traitor made Matthew feel sick. He shook his head. He personally disagreed with many of Octavia’s ideas and decisions. He feared what was going to happen, now that she was the one in charge.

Matthew went still as he realised the one oversight he had made. The one major thing he had feared from Octavia. The reason why he had feared the idea of her overpowering Yao. The thing which he had somehow forgotten in the midst of yesterday’s madness.

She had wanted to kill their prisoners.

* * *

 _Gafadari Grasslands,_  
Coysashi Territory, Nyma,  
23rd Maarch

Tino ran his hand along the top of the soft grasses as he walked, glancing behind him briefly at the group of travellers which lagged far behind. They still had a good day’s worth of travel left, but their energy already seemed spent. Tino found it amusing. They were all bounty hunters and pirates. He would have thought that they would have something resembling stamina, but it seemed that their ability to walk long-distance was severely lacking. Too used to travel by ship, he thought, smirking to himself under his mask.

Ines had insisted that he wear the biker mask, as well as his goggles, to hide his face from their new companions. It was for quite a simple reason, one which Tino hadn’t even considered, the night they confronted the Dolyagor.

Tino had recently earned the honour of entering the Union’s top ten most wanted. His skill on the field while working for the resistance had not gone unnoticed. He had earned himself a substantial bounty, too – 3 billion marks. He had joked with Ines that he might soon give the Free Court royals a run for their money, to which she had responded with a simple eye-roll and a shake of her head. For all his light-hearted banter about the subject, the idea did worry him.

He had become a familiar sight around the resistance, and on Nyma in general, so it was rare that people actually reacted to him. The Dolyagor had been a rare exception. Really, though, he should have expected such a reaction. He never kept track of how many people he had killed – it felt wrong, like he was displaying it like a trophy – but he had caved into curiosity and checked his profile on the Index. According to the Union, he had a reported 2,058 kills to his name. The very number had made him feel strange. On the one hand, it felt good to know that he scared them, at least a little bit, but on the other, he felt a small burst of shame.

Tino was now the deadliest human sniper in intergalactic war history. He didn’t know if he was allowed to feel pride at that.

In any case, his picture was now displayed garishly around the Union – people knew his face. As the bounty hunters and pirates which they were escorting were likely from within the Union – Tino thought he had detected a Reycausian accent or two – they would recognise him if they saw his face, hence his current disguise.

Tino sighed. They hadn’t heard much from headquarters since they’d gotten out here, and he knew that Yao would be happy to get rid of their other four prisoners, though he and Ines had failed to reach their goal of the Hriskat Outpost in the mountains. He had spent more time than he should have studying one of the bounty hunters. He had heard the story from Matthew already, but the resemblance between the two really was remarkable. And to think...they weren’t even twins.

Tino glanced back at their entourage again. One of them – a tall blond – had been breathing heavily and stumbling along since they came across them. He was evidently hurt, but was yet to bring up the subject. Another one of them – one of the pirates – was also lagging, though he wasn’t visibly injured. His skin had taken on a tone that was more and more worrying over the past day, and though Tino was keeping his distance, like the Colonel had told him to, his humanitarian streak was showing through, and he couldn’t help but feel concerned. The guy was obviously sick. Luckily, two of the other pirates – a girl and a boy, both of them Yanish – had been helping him along, and hauling him up with their arms if he ever stumbled. Today, however, they had been holding him up since early morning. His condition, whatever it was, was quickly making his strength deteriorate. But the man never asked for them to rest, so they didn’t.

He bit his lip. He was yet to speak to any of them, but they seemed like an alright group of people. He heard a few of them joking around earlier, and Matthew’s doppelganger seemed to enjoy complaining about his sore feet immensely. They certainly provided amusement. But nonetheless, they were criminals, only here to trade their friends for money. Tino glanced downward at the small navigation device he had in his hands. They would need to blindfold the lot of them in a few hours, to ensure that they didn’t become too familiarised with where their base was.

He glanced back at the group. Colonel Jakolin was bringing up the rear of the group. She saw him looking and threw him a thumbs-up, accompanied by a lazy grin. Tino rolled his eyes under the mask.

Only a day to go.

* * *

Kari was relieved beyond measure when she spotted Nelia and Lukas walking back from the training grounds, talking together intently. Nothing in the past 24 hours had made sense, and it felt good to see him again. He spotted her and smiled slightly, bidding farewell to Nelia before rushing over to her.

“Hey.” He said. She grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. She was longing to just hug him, but as many rebels knew, she was normally about as tactile as a cactus, and it would be noticed if she suddenly got interested in hugging people.

“How was training?” she asked as they turned and started to walk back towards the dining hall, where dinner was starting to be served. He shrugged.

“Well, now that I can relocate my joints, it’s a lot less painful.” He sent her a meaningful look. “Nelia seemed a bit distracted, though.” Kari raised an eyebrow.

“By?” Lukas rolled his eyes.

“The whole thing with Yao, of course. Everyone’s distracted by it.” Kari hummed.

“Did she seem…happy about it?” she asked cautiously. She had been trying to determine who among their friends could be counted on to defy Octavia if necessary, and it would be endlessly helpful to have a fighter like Nelia on their side.

“She seemed pretty unsettled, actually.” Lukas responded simply, though Kari could see in his eyes what he was saying. She silently cheered. Another one on their team, then. Lukas had been one of the first people she had gone to talk to after Yao was imprisoned. They were both firmly on Yao’s side, of course, and though neither of them would act against Octavia herself, they were both willing to act against her policies, if need be.

Kari’s train of thought about Nelia was thrown off by Vlad suddenly materialising in front of her. She blinked in surprise. The normally-chipper bomber looked drawn and thoughtful, and was wringing his hands nervously. Before she could even ask what was going on, he spoke.

“Can I talk to you, Kari?” he shot a sidelong look at Lukas. “Alone? If you don’t mind.”

Still slightly surprised, Kari made to turn to him, but Lukas shrugged, raising a hand in farewell as he turned and traipsed away. She turned back to Vlad. “What’s going on?”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I have not been having a good evening.” Kari raised an eyebrow.

“Elaborate. Now.”

Vlad raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I was planning on it.” He dropped his arms, wringing his hands together once more. “You just had the pleasure of missing a rather explosive argument.” Kari frowned, but gestured for him to go on.

“Well, it was essentially an argument between Ismeta and Kristian, actually.” Kari closed her eyes, and groaned softly. She could guess what had happened. “Ismeta went off at us because we thought Octavia was insane for having imprisoned Yao. She’s on Octavia’s side because it was Yao that ordered for Dana to be arrested, basically.” He shook his head. “It got heated, fast. Kristian and Ismeta ended up full on screaming at one another about why they were right and the other was wrong. Anyway,” Vlad started fiddling with his hair again, “Kristian let slip that we’re dating.” Kari groaned in sympathy, putting her hand on Vlad’s arm.

“Vlad…” she trailed off.

“Ismeta hates me now.” He said, looking weary. Kari looked up.

“She doesn’t hate you, Vlad.” He shook his head at her statement.

“Yes she does. Do you know what she said to me? She looked at me and asked, ‘Is that true, Vlad?’ I kinda just told her that it was, and she said ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this, even when you know how I feel. Don’t come near me again’, followed shortly by a lovely ‘I hate you’, when I tried to explain myself.” Kari bit her lip.

“God, Vlad, I’m sorry.” She said. He sighed.

“I mean, most of the others are on my side, so that’s something.” He mumbled. “Kristian just told me to ignore her, though. He says she’s the one in the wrong.” Kari nodded.

“Well, he’s right. She is the one at fault here. She didn’t sign a fucking contract which gives her and her alone claim to Kristian. Besides, he’s never shown a romantic interest in her, anyway. From day one it’s you he’s been falling for.” Vlad scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He muttered, still looking despondent. “I don’t regret that Kristian stood up to her, though. I mean, if you heard the sort of shit she was spouting about Yao, you’d have been furious too.” Kari nodded.

“Well, you can spend your time with me then,” she said, looping her arm through Vlad’s, “because I am not as immature as Ismeta, and I wholeheartedly agree that Yao is in the right.” Vlad grinned weakly. She continued, “And Lukas does too, so you aren’t strapped for companionship.” But her last comment made something in Vlad’s face shift.

“You guys have become pretty good friends, haven’t you?” he said. “You normally don’t take to new recruits so quickly.” Kari felt a chill run down her spine.

“Well, we’re really similar, I guess that’s what it is.” Vlad nodded, still looking a little distant.

“How old is he, again? Like, 18, right?”

Kari nodded. “Yeah, 18.” Vlad looked pensive.

“When’s his birthday?” Kari felt herself stiffen slightly at the question.

“I’m not sure,” she lied, “I haven’t asked him.” Vlad was looking away now.

“I’m pretty sure it’s mid-year.” He commented absently. She nodded, simply because she had no other way to respond to the statement.

“Maybe, yeah.” She said.

“It’s kind of funny,” Vlad murmured, “I mean, he’s from Oslaholm, but he fits in so well with rural life.” Kari bumped him with her elbow.

“Not all city folk are incapable of adapting.” She said. Suddenly, she stiffened, as his whole statement ran through her head again. “How do you know he’s from Oslaholm?”

Vlad didn’t respond, and when she looked at him, he simply squeezed her arm briefly before letting go. “I’m not stupid, Kari.” He said simply. She became aware that she was staring at him, blood thundering through her veins. He met her gaze, and winked. “I won’t say anything. He’s a good kid.”

And, without another word on the matter, he turned on his heel and began walking in the other direction.


	29. The Wickedness of an Unending Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am back! Please be warned that the next chapter could be a while away - I have so many assignments, as well as study, which I have to get through, so I'll be quite distracted for the next few weeks!
> 
> RECAP:   
> \- The bounty hunters and pirates are on Nyma and are quick approaching the rebel base. Colonel Jakolin (Slovenia) and Tino are accompanying them.  
> \- Matthias is still injured, while Arthur suffers from a mysterious illness.  
> \- Yao is still imprisoned, and Octavia is now in charge, which has caused dissent everywhere in the resistance. Vlad has figured out who Lukas and Emilia are. Matthew is concerned about what Octavia will do to their prisoners.
> 
> NAMES:  
> Ines Jakolin: Slovenia  
> Ayshe Kartal: Ottoman Empire (I am aware that Turkey is the Ottoman Empire in the anime, but here she's a separate person)  
> Cera Bannion: Celtic Empire  
> Gonzorig Khar: Mongol Empire  
> Ali Ghafoor: Afghanistan  
> Dalisay Mendoza: Philippines
> 
> If anyone has a major issue with any names, just mention it and I'll try to find a more appropriate one for that nation. Warning, though, I will not change the names of any Empires, since it is quite difficult to find 'ancient' names for them to use. Any modern countries, however, feel free to criticise if I have used a name from the wrong country or culture.
> 
> Again, this fic now has a tumblr! Join me as I post occasional updates and even, if you're lucky, a preview! (Please join me, I'm so lonely) [The tumblr that I recommend you all come visit because otherwise I will 100% cry](https://huntingthestarsandetc.tumblr.com/)

_Not far from Draak-Zafi Forra,_  
Nyma,  
24th Maarch

Francis cursed as he stumbled again, wishing that he could rip the blindfold from his eyes and walk like a normal human being. Unfortunately, though, they were nearing the resistance base, and so had to be kept from learning their secrets. He swore loudly as he tripped again, hands flying out to keep his face from smashing into the ground. He felt someone grip his arm and tug him back into an upright position. Shrugging off their help, he shifted his feet, before sighing in defeat and moving forward again. This had already been a long and painful journey, but this last stretch was the longest and most painful of all.

They had stopped at a rebel outpost in the Gafadari Grasslands early that morning, and had promptly been blindfolded by the people they met there. Their two guides – Jakolin and the Lieutenant, had at least had the decency to shrug and grin guiltily before they helped restrain them. The Colonel spoke to them as they tripped and stumbled over the uneven ground, tone cheery and light. She seemed to get happier the longer they travelled.

“I promise that this should be a brief exchange. Your friends are of no use to us, but your money is. Since they haven’t really done anything, we have no reason to detain them, or you for that matter.” Her words were comforting, but a part of Francis was unsettled. They had worked so hard, overcome so many obstacles to get this far, but he found he could only feel that something was going to go wrong.

Francis cursed again, loudly this time, as his knees slammed into the ground once more. He heard Jakolin’s low chuckle, before what he assumed was her hand closed around his arm and helped him up again.

“Sorry. It would be a lot easier if you weren’t blindfolded, I know, but you must understand, security and all.” Francis grunted again, sighing as he kept walking. Objectively, he did understand the necessity, but he was too annoyed to feel forgiving. He could hear the others continuing to walk, though the noises of scuffling and cursing were much clearer. At the very least, he wasn’t the only one struggling.

He had just clambered to his feet again when he heard some sort of commotion behind him. Someone was talking loudly, and he heard a few alarmed shouts. He turned his head, despite being unable to see anything, wondering if someone was attacking them.

That thought was dispelled just a moment later, when he heard something like a pitying chuckle. “Poor bastard.” He heard someone say. He was about to ask what was going on, when he heard the sound of someone retching and coughing. He grimaced, turning his head a little. The Colonel, still standing nearby, answered his unasked question.

“One of your friends is throwing up.” she said, in the same, light conversational tone she had been using just a few moments before. Francis straightened up a little, frowning. “A lot.” She muttered, now sounding a little worried, as the sounds of retching continued. He felt her hand on his arm. “You keep going, I’m going to check on him.” He heard her footsteps retreating, and, curiosity balanced equally by his desire to stay away from vomiting people, hesitated a moment before continuing.

He only managed to get a few more metres – he wasn’t really sure of distances anymore – when he slammed into someone’s back. Francis stumbled a little, apologising, before a familiar voice met his ears.

“What’s going on?” it was Alfred, he could tell. Francis frowned again.

“Someone’s being sick, apparently.” Alfred made a small, concerned noise.

“It’s probably just heatstroke or something.” Alfred said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Nope.” Another voice – Louise’s – said to Francis’ right. “It’s Arthur.”

“Seriously? Is he okay?” Alfred asked, sounding rather more concerned than Francis was comfortable with. Louise made a non-committed noise.

“I wouldn’t know. He has been looking pretty poorly the last few weeks, hasn’t he?” she said. Francis frowned, gritting his teeth as he recalled Arthur’s pale complexion the day they had left Rela.

“Let’s just keep going.” Francis said sharply. “I’m sure he’ll survive.” As if on cue, he felt a hand wrap around his upper arm and tug him gently.

“Come on now,” Colonel Jakolin’s voice called out, “we still have a lot of ground to cover, remember. The longer we take to get there, the longer you’ll have to wait to free your friends.”

“Is Arthur okay?” Alfred asked the moment she was finished talking. Francis could hear a definitive note of panic in his voice, and he had to struggle to not curl his lip. As if Kirkland hadn’t twisted around enough things in Francis’ life. Now he was apparently managing to woo Alfred, as well? “He’s going to be alright, isn’t he?” the younger man continued.

“He’s collapsed, so we’ll carry him the rest of the way.” she said, still managing to sound casual, even as Francis felt himself stiffen unconsciously. Alfred made a small, disparaged noise. “Do any of you know what’s wrong with him?” Jakolin continued. Francis frowned, and shook his head, while he heard the others murmur their dissent.

“I thought he had heatstroke?” Louise said, tone bemused. Francis heard Jakolin sigh.

“Whatever he has, it definitely isn’t heatstroke.” She remarked, before pushing Francis gently. “Come on, your friend will be okay. The faster we get to our base, the faster we can get one of our medics to take a look at him, yeah?” Francis nodded mutely, and continued forward.

 _If that idiot is on something, then his condition is his own fault,_ Francis thought furiously. _I don’t care what happens to him._

But no matter how many times he muttered those words to himself, he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe them.

* * *

 _Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,  
24th Maarch

Elizabeta glared at nothing in particular as she crossed the wide clearing space. She could feel eyes on her, but ignored them. Ever since Yao had been imprisoned, she had been regarded with more suspicion. The fact that she was a well-respected, long-serving member of the resistance didn’t matter. She was stalwart and outspoken about her loyalty to Yao, even now, and that made her untrustworthy in the eyes of some. She shot death glares at those who she knew to be most devoted of Octavia’s supporters, and strode fearlessly towards the main tent, where a meeting of the highest-ranked officers in the resistance was soon due to start.

She was bitter, but unsurprised, to find her path blocked.

“Move, Dalisay.” The Lysi woman titled her chin upwards.

“This meeting has already begun. It can’t be interrupted now.” She said simply.

“On whose orders?” Elizabeta spat.

“Vice-General Papadopoulos’.” Dalisay said calmly. Elizabeta felt her lip curl.

“That’s never been a rule before.” she said, measured tone underlined with anger and frustration. Dalisay raised an eyebrow.

“Vice-General Papadopoulos was very clear.” The woman continued. “She didn’t want any interruptions.”

“You mean she doesn’t want anyone who is loyal to Yao in there.” Elizabeta growled. “Or anyone with a real brain. The two are interchangeable, really.” Dalisay levelled an impressive glare at her.

“Orders are orders. If you wish to take up a complaint with someone, speak to Major Batbayaryn. He proposed the new measure, to safeguard the security of meetings from potential espionage.” Elizabeta hated how Dalisay’s eyes landed on her and narrowed as she spoke the last few words.

Still scowling fiercely, Elizabeta whirled around and stalked off, silently fuming. She couldn’t be bothered to seek out Zev right now, so she supposed she would sit this meeting out. Her vilified thoughts were swept away, however, when she spotted a familiar figure standing not too far away, conversing with a newer recruit. Her eyes widened, and she felt a smile cross her face as she ran toward them.

“Ayshe!” she called out. The woman turned, her beautiful face splitting into an equally beautiful smile. Elizabeta hugged her, laughing with delight. “It’s been so long!” she said as they pulled apart. The other woman grinned.

“Don’t I know it!” she laughed. “Everything here is different, now!”

Ayshe Kartal was well known as one of the greatest fighters that the resistance had ever known. She was a remarkably brave woman, and had completed so many dangerous and high-stakes missions successfully that, despite her young age – she was only 31 – she had risen to the rank of Admiral already. She was half Nymian, half Jhobrasian, and her parents had blessed her with smooth caramel skin, long, dark hair which she normally wore in some sort of braided updo, eyes so dark they looked almost black, and a slender, lithe figure which helped her move with such great agility. She had been a member of the rebels’ infantry forces initially, before she discovered her own aptitude for all things relating to ships and aviation, and had become a member of their navy instead.

Ayshe had led missions discarded by everyone else as insane and impossible. She was in the battlefield constantly, and led with intelligence and poise. Despite the immense difficulties which her job brought her, she remained light-hearted, kind and compassionate to everyone she met. There was more than one person in the resistance who had fallen for her. Even Elizabeta recalled having regarded her with hero-worship when she was younger. If someone were to ask her if she had ever had a crush on Admiral Kartal, she would simply shrug and say ‘of course, who hasn’t?’. Even Kristian, who had crushed on Vlad since the day he first saw him, and never shown any interest in any girl, had adored Ayshe.

Elizabeta had not heard about all of Ayshe’s exploits, but she, like most people, had adored to learn about the most famous. Recalling one routine of conversation which they used to constantly exchange, she drew away a little more, and gently flicked Ayshe on the arm.

“Tell me about Operation Parasite.” She said, pitching her voice higher and making her tone whiny. Ayshe laughed, wagging a finger reprimandingly.

“You’re too young, Liz.” Elizabeta couldn’t help but giggle. For years, she had wanted nothing more than to hear about the operation which had made Ayshe famous among the resistance. For years, Ayshe had denied her. Elizabeta knew that the details of the mission were still technically confidential, to protect those involved who were now living under protections, but given her position now, she would be permitted to look through the mission files. But a part of her wanted to hear the details from Ayshe. She had been the one to plan and lead the whole thing. The success had been because of her and her alone. Ayshe threw an arm around her shoulders as they started to walk together. “Do you actually know any of the details?” Ayshe asked, looking amused. Elizabeta shrugged.

“None. I know the mission name, but that’s about it.” Ayshe stopped, staring at her with wide eyes.

“Seriously? You don’t even know what the objective was or anything?”

Elizabeta grinned sheepishly. Ayshe shook her head at her fondly, throwing her arm around Elizabeta’s shoulders again.

“I’ll find the time to explain it later.” She said, winking. “How have things been around here?”

The smile dropped from Elizabeta’s face, and she ducked her head slightly. “Not so good, in all honesty, given what’s happened with Yao and everything.” Ayshe drew away, and Elizabeta could see her frowning. But nothing could have prepared her for the words which left her mouth next.

“What do you mean? What happened?”

Elizabeta made a noise halfway between a spluttering child and a beached whale, rearing her head back and staring at her. “No-one told you.” She murmured, shock still coursing through her system. Ayshe blinked owlishly.

“What happened?” she repeated. Elizabeta gulped. She had never envied those who had to tell Ayshe bad news, and for good reason.

“Well……”

* * *

Octavia nearly broke her own nose with the force that she threw herself to the ground. She gritted her teeth as she saw a box of metal pellets fly past Ehsan, who looked as confused and vaguely frightened as she herself felt. Cursing whoever had decided that keeping Admiral Kartal updated was a good idea, she cautiously raised her head above the edge of the desk. Ayshe spotted her and hurled the next thing within reach of her long arms – a silencer for a pistol.

Octavia dodged it and straightened up fully, holding her arms up in a gesture of surrender.

“Ayshe, please calm down!” she shouted. The other woman glared at her.

“How _fucking_ _dare_ _you_ throw him in prison!” she yelled. “He is no spy! As you should know!” she yelled. The Admiral moved to find something else to throw, before Mohammed, who until then had avoided having nearby objects thrown at him, grabbed her wrist and pulled her body towards his. Ayshe bared her teeth in an almost animal-like manner, struggling.

“Calm down.” He said, some of his first words of the day. Ayshe continued to struggle for a few moments, before she stopped, shoulders slumping. When she spoke next, her angry tone had vanished.

“Why do you think it’s him?” she asked quietly. Octavia frowned sympathetically. Ayshe was not so much loyal to Yao, due to the fact that her position was almost equal to his, as she was an old and devoted friend. They had become firm friends sometime after Ayshe’s popularity had been catapaulted upwards by the success of Operation Parasite. She had been frequently sought after by everyone from top generals to newcomers and grunts, and had found refuge, by her own admission, by spending time with Yao Wang.

The first few years of his tenure at the resistance, before he was elected as their leader, had been filled with isolation and distrust on Yao’s part. He hadn’t been a ‘people person’, and had tended to keep to himself and do his job. Many people had speculated that he was bitter about his treatment from the first time he had been at the rebel base. He had stayed at their old base on Apollomina for three months, reportedly, and in that time, had been treated appallingly by almost everyone. The idea made Octavia angry. She disagreed with Yao, yes, but it was on more of an ideological level than anything else. She suspected him of being a spy because there was potential evidence to suggest that it might be the case, not because he was Yanish.

At the time, however, Yao had been the first _real_ Union defector. People had joined them from the ranks of planets under Union control before, of course, but he was the first case of someone raised in the heart of the empire who had chosen to act against it. Many people hadn’t trusted him, and though no-one would admit it, almost all of their distrust was racially-based. Even Mohammed had performed such profiling. The only ones who had abstained from such practices had been their many refugees from the Free Courts – as sufferers of racism, they were hardly keen to then inflict it – and a few officials like Helena and Yaretzi Chapula.

Octavia had been assigned to outposts before 4506, and so she didn’t know much about the atmosphere of the resistance in the last years of Arshad Teymouri’s life other than what she had heard. She hadn’t even laid eyes on Yao Wang until the mission which resulted in her sister’s death, and back then, she had felt predisposed to like him because of what he had done for her sister. Octavia was ashamed of how she was basing her suspicions of Yao on his past as a civilian in the Union, but could at least say she wasn’t doing it for his ethnicity.

Part of everyone’s reasons for avoiding Yao back then had been very much so based on his ethnicity. Ayshe, having been desperate for any place free of her scores of new admirers, and having already been friends with Yao, had sought him out. And, rather than everyone overcoming their prejudices to still spend time with Ayshe, the brave woman had been ignored as long as she was with Yao, which had resulted in the two essentially being attached at the hip for about six months. The whole situation had helped to soften Yao a little, though, and they had remained close friends ever since. Octavia couldn’t blame the Admiral for her anger.

Slowly, and falteringly, Octavia laid out her several reasons for suspecting Yao. Ayshe listened in silence, despondent gaze locked onto the floor. When Octavia was finally finished, she nodded jerkingly.

“I can see how such things would make you suspect him, anyway.” She muttered. “You’re wrong, about some things, anyway, but I understand your thinking.” Octavia inclined her head at Ayshe a little.

“I know you two are close friends,” she said, forcing herself to ignore Ehsan’s eye-roll, “but how do you know I’m wrong?” she said it gently, hoping not to provoke the Admiral too much. Ayshe sighed.

“I know his reasons for the long clothing and gloves. It certainly isn’t for espionage purposes. I won’t make comment on everything else. Your other concerns seem valid enough.” Octavia’s eyebrows shot upwards.

“You know why he wears them?” she asked. Ayshe nodded.

“Of course, most of you didn’t hang around the base much back at the time. Anyone who did and is still alive now knows why.” She shrugged.

“If it isn’t some big secret, then why does he wear them?” Octavia asked. Ayshe levelled a stare at her, before turning on her heel to leave.

“Ask him yourself. That seems to be something that not many people are brave enough to do.”

“His trial is on the 29th. He can tell us his reasons there” Octavia added as Ayshe slipped through the tent flaps. She saw the other woman stiffen, but give a brief nod as she walked away.

* * *

Arthur frowned, drawing in a small breath as he forced his eyes open. He almost immediately slammed them shut again, as sunlight poured through, making his head spin again.

_Wait…sunlight?_

He slowly opened them again, blinking in wonder as he saw that his blindfold had finally been removed. He turned his head slowly, knowing that moving too fast would only further exacerbate his vicious headache. He could see the vibrant blue of the sky above him. His brow furrowed in confusion. What the hell was going on?

The last thing he remembered...well, he’d been sick. His face burned with humiliation as he remembered. As if the others weren’t already touchy enough around his health. He groaned softly as he thought of how overbearing Mei and Leon would be now. His groan was evidently heard by someone, as he heard approaching footsteps, before the glare of the sun vanished, and he found himself looking up at the concealed face of the evasive Lieutenant whom they’d been travelling with.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good. We really have to keep going.” Arthur felt a spike of apprehension go through him as he imagined the hours which they still had to stumble through the desert. The Lieutenant must have seen the reluctance in his face, and laughed shortly. “We don’t have much further to go, don’t worry. Not even an hour.”

Arthur’s eyebrows rocketed up his face. Less than an hour of travel? How long exactly had he been unconscious? He wasn’t afforded time to ask, however, as the Lieutenant swiftly took his arm and pulled him to his feet. Arthur blinked, throwing his arms out to steady himself as his vision spun slightly. To his relief, it calmed down after a moment, and the Lieutenant released his grip when Arthur was no longer in danger of falling on his face.

Evidently, Colonel Jakolin had decided to make some concessions for Arthur, given his poor physical condition. His hands weren’t bound like they had been before, though he did have a tether looped around his right wrist nonetheless. His blindfold was also much less restrictive, obviously made of a lighter material and not tied so tightly. He could just barely see out the bottom of it, which aided him greatly in moving over the terrain. The Lieutenant had obviously been tasked with watching over him, and Arthur could sense his presence very close to him. It was slightly unnerving, given the Lieutenant’s behaviour, but he was simultaneously grateful that there would be someone to drag him back to his feet if he collapsed again.

Even thinking about the whole situation made his face burn again. He forced it out of his mind. There was nothing that he could do about it now. He forced himself onward, dismissing the pain in his temple and weakness in his knees. The Lieutenant had said that they weren’t far away, and he intended to stay upright until they had arrived there.

The minutes dragged on as he staggered over the uneven terrain, silence broken only by Arthur’s occasional cursing and heavy breathing. He was just starting to get dizzy and shaky again, when the Lieutenant grabbed him and hauled him forward. His blindfold was stripped off again, and he blinked at the bright light.

“Ah, he lives.” A voice, dry with sarcasm, spoke to his left. He turned, face morphing into a scowl as he spotted Francis. “Have a nice sleep?” the other man continued, tone mocking. He didn’t even bother to reply, ignoring even Alfred’s much more positive response to seeing him awake and standing again.

He glanced around. They were standing just below the rise of a small hill. The sky above was melting into a gentle indigo shade. Clearly, it was later than he had initially thought. His thought process was interrupted as he felt himself being shoved forward. He fought the urge to snap at whoever was shoving him, and dragged himself up the hill. It was harder than he had expected or wanted it to be, and he found his breathing came ragged and weak. He could feel his stomach rolling and pitching like a boat in a storm, and his vision had started to spin again.

Arthur staggered slightly, legs shaking slightly. He could feel himself starting to fall, but long before his knees ever hit the ground, someone’s arm hooked itself underneath his arms and hauled him upwards. He found himself slumping slightly against someone else’s chest, and blinked in surprise, just barely managing to move his legs as whoever had a hold of him tugged Arthur along with them. He turned his head, shock coursing through his system when he saw that it was Francis who had caught him.

“Move.” Francis snapped at him. The stern expression on the other’s face wavered when he made eye contact with Arthur. “Come on, we’re nearly there, anyway. Just move your feet, I’ll hold you up.” Arthur nodded blearily, trying his best to do what Francis said. He felt like his entire centre of balance had been thrown off, not least by the fact that of all people, _Francis_ was the one helping him.

By some miracle, they made it to the top of the hill. Arthur would have pitched face-first into the dirt had it not been for Francis’ iron grip. Alfred, who had made it up the hill before them, turned, evidently to say something to them. His eyes widened, and he rushed over when he saw Arthur’s fatigued posture, quickly looping his arm around the pirate as well. Alfred nodded to Francis.

“I got him.” He said quietly. The other blond merely nodded, slipping his arm free and drawing upright before stalking away. Arthur sighed, resting his head against Alfred’s shoulder as the taller man helped him walk further toward the edge of the hill. “Hey,” he felt Alfred nudge him very gently, “look. We’re finally here.” Drawing in a breath, Arthur forced his eyes open again, mouth falling open in shock as he gazed at the scene before them.

A vast forest filled his vision, composed of some of the most bizarre trees he had ever seen in his life. They had pale, smooth trunks, with branches which sprouted out near the top and formed a canopy of dark leaves that was almost perfectly level on top. He blinked in shock, twisting his head to take more of it in, exhaustion forgotten. Tents and small buildings had been built in the shade of the massive trees, which he could now see had massive roots that splayed across the landscape. He shielded his eyes from the brightness of the sun, which was on its way to begin sinking below the horizon, and gawked at the rebel base. The entire area hummed with activity. The Union had long claimed that the resistance was little more than a hapless group of ‘terrorists’ armed with rudimentary weapons; small in number and having almost no impact.

But, judging from what he saw here, that was clearly a lie. If this place was what the Union called ‘rudimentary’, they likely were in need of some sort of dictionary. The rebels escorting them along called for them to keep moving, and Alfred adjusted his grip on Arthur before he continued to help him along. Colonel Jakolin took the lead, gesturing for them to speed up as they wandered between tents and what looked like small workshops. Arthur swore he spotted one young man crafting a nail bomb at a blackened table. They garnered a great deal of stares as they walked past, with some people even stopping in their tracks to gawk at them. Arthur tried his best to ignore them, trying to keep his focus on walking in a straight line and not accidentally falling and pulling Alfred down with him.

Blessedly, everything in the rebel base seemed to be relatively close together, and they were ushered into a tent soon enough. One of the rebels inside, a young man with dark hair and eyes, took one look at Arthur and surrendered his seat. He collapsed into it gratefully, nodding at both the rebel and Alfred in thanks. The rebel shrugged and disappeared from the tent, and Alfred grinned at him. Flushing slightly, Arthur looked away.

Now, he supposed, all they had to do was wait.

* * *

Tino and Ines stared at Elizabeta in disbelief.

“Octavia’s in charge?” Tino spluttered, mouth gaping open in shock. The woman nodded, expression drawn and pale. “Since when??”

“Since about two days ago. It happened not long after you guys set off for the Sulig Mountains.” Tino groaned in dismay, burying his face in his hands. Ines seemed just as shocked.

“She honestly suspects Yao, though? How? He’s been our leader for years, and a damn good one at that.” Elizabeta nodded.

“I know, but she suspects him nonetheless. And she had the backing of almost all other high-ranked officers here, so she also had that advantage. She took him by surprise. There was nothing that any of us could do to stop it.” Ines was shaking her head slowly.

“What reasons did she even give? For suspecting him?” Elizabeta sighed,

“It was all that bullshit about him wearing clothes with long sleeves and high necks, and gloves and that. She thinks he wears those sorts of clothes to hide an audio recorder.” Ines scoffed at Elizabeta’s words.

“You have got to be kidding me. That isn’t even remotely close to why he wears them.” Ines said, tone scathing. Elizabeta and Tino both blinked at her.

“Wait…you know why he wears them, then?” Elizabeta asked. Ines looked at her, blinking in confusion before understanding came to her face.

“I do, yes. I’m one of the few left here who remembers back then.” She eyed Elizabeta. “You wouldn’t have been in a real position to know him at the time, so it makes sense that you don’t know. Tino, you weren’t even part of the resistance back then, so you’d have no idea.” Elizabeta thought for a moment.

“What year exactly are we talking about? How long ago was this?”

“Oh, 4504CC. Not that long ago, really, but because our casualty rates were so high back then, most people from the time who would have known what happened would be dead.” Elizabeta blinked in surprise. In 4504, she was 17 years old, and had already held an officer’s rank in the resistance. She’d been stationed primarily in outposts, though, so it made sense that she had no clue what Ines was talking about.

“What exactly happened?” Elizabeta respected Yao’s privacy, of course she did, but this was something which had intrigued her for a long time. And it evidently wasn’t as private as she’d thought, if so many people had reportedly known about it.

Ines shrugged, “Operation Parasite.” Elizabeta gave a shifty smile. She still didn’t know the details of the mission. Ines sighed. “You still don’t know about it? Given how close you and Ayshe are, I thought you would have just asked her.” Elizabeta shrugged.

“I was going to, but I made the mistake of telling her about Yao getting imprisoned before I could ask. She got side-tracked.” Ines nodded, grinning slightly. Ayshe’s temper was famous. Tino shrugged.

“I don’t have the security clearance.” He said. “Restricted to Captains and above.” Ines smiled sympathetically.

“Well, I’ll grant you temporary clearance, just for tonight.” Ines said, winking at him. He grinned back at her. Ines’ expression turned solemn, as she seemed to recall their topic of conversation.

“Operation Parasite…was a manifest success. Unprecedented. It was only because of the people sent on the mission that it worked. No one expected anything but devastating failure.” She leant back against the tent pole behind her. “Ayshe Kartal, Ali Ghafoor, Gonzorig Khar and Cera Bannion. Four of the finest fighters who had ever graced the resistance’s doorstep.” She sighed. “To understand why they risked it, you really need to get the context of the time.” Ines scuffed her shoe on the ground as she continued.

“In late 4503, a spy leaked the location of our base on Apollomina. Our forces stationed there were slaughtered. Hundreds of thousands of people wiped out by the Union. It was the most devastating blow to our resistance efforts in over a hundred years. After it happened, there was a universal sense of anger. Everyone wanted to get back at the Union, show them that we hadn’t been beaten down completely. We were weaker than we’d ever been, but people began to plan and scheme. They aimed for smaller plans which would affect the Union, but not require a huge amount of man-power. Ayshe came up with an idea.” Ines looked up. “She came up with the idea to completely immerse herself into the Union security system, over the course of months, until she could get into a position where she could wreak havoc.”

“She was successful, and after several months spent living as workers in the Union, she and the others hacked into the system and changed their assignments to have themselves placed on a secret ship in the Union’s arsenal. They had heard only the name. Most of the concrete information about it was restricted to the top rebel officials. The ship was called the SS Arbiter.” A shudder went through Ines’ body as she spoke the name. Elizabeta frowned.

“Wait…I swear I’ve heard that name before.” Ines nodded.

“I would be surprised if you hadn’t.” she said. “It’s a ship used by the Union to contain, interrogate, torture and execute their most high-profile enemies. The public doesn’t know about it, for good reason. For anyone ever held prisoner by the Union, it’s been used as an effective threat.”

“Yikes.” Tino muttered. Ines nodded in agreement.

“They successfully infiltrated the ship, and posed as security guards on board. After several more weeks of infiltration, they launched an escape effort. They got more than 30 prisoners out alive.” She bit her lip. “The Arbiter’s become famous since Operation Parasite, mostly because almost none of those held onboard who escaped ever recovered.” Elizabeta’s eyebrows rocketed skywards.

“They were in such bad physical conditions?” she said, appalled. Ines flinched.

“Well, yes, but I meant more their physical state. An experience on the Arbiter leaves most people insane, deranged, or so disillusioned they don’t acknowledge any part of their surroundings.” She looked up at them, sadness carved deep into her features. “It’s horrifying, but true. For those who did retain their sanity, well, they’re immediately recognisable. The sorts of injuries received on the Arbiter are quite unique.”

“How so?” Tino asked, looking confused.

“While on board, they get a mark carved into the right side of their neck. It’s the Yanish word for ‘punished’ or something like that.” Elizabeta felt sick upon hearing that, and scrunched up her face, placing a hand on her stomach.

“So how does Yao tie into all of this?” She asked, eager for Ines’ tale to end.

“He was one of the prisoners they freed from the Arbiter.” She said simply. “I saw him once, about a month after he was freed. He was confined to the infirmary, and I was doing a shift there. He’s scarred beyond belief. People could hardly look at him without feeling sick. He started wearing long sleeves to stop people from staring at him in horror.” Elizabeta frowned.

“But we have tonnes of people around here who have bad scarring. I mean, Sakia has bad burns down half her body, but she doesn’t hide it!” Ines made a clicking noise with her tongue.

“There’s a big difference between receiving scarring in an accident like Sakia did, and receiving them from continuous, systematic torture. His scars have a lot more meaning behind them. Not to mention, I doubt Yao himself likes them very much, just due to what memories they would bring back. Plus, Yao’s scars are a different sort of horrible. Their placement, what they look like…well, it’s pretty horrible, anyway, and I only caught a glimpse. He was on there for a hell of a long time, so he has a lot of them.”

“That’s awful.” Tino said, voice quiet. Ines nodded. Elizabeta furrowed her brow.

“Ines, you said that almost everyone rescued from the Arbiter was completely, if not nearly, insane. How did Yao stay sane, if he was on there so long?” Ines looked at her sadly.

“Oh, Elizabeta…he didn’t stay sane.” Before Elizabeta could even react to that statement, Ines was continuing. “He was unreachable for months, a total head-case. He would try and attack nurses because he thought they were there to hurt him. He screamed in his sleep, and at other points for no real reason at all. He talked to himself and would start crying for no reason. He yelled out nonsense half the time. It took him months to get better. The only reason he did is because Ayshe was relentless in helping him.”

Elizabeta felt sick to her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it when she felt her stomach rolling and twisting. She shook her head, almost too horrified to process the idea. Yao….

She turned on her heel and ran.

* * *

By the time that someone bothered to come around and talk to them, Alfred was ready to pitch over and fall asleep. He wouldn’t dare to ask Arthur to sit down, though. The other man was still pale and very sick-looking, and had been leaning forward with his hands wrapped around his stomach for close to half an hour. They had hoped that they would be able to get their friends back and pay off the rebels fairly quickly, but punctuality clearly wasn’t their strong suit. By the time the tent flaps opened again, the sky outside was dark.

They all jolted upright as three people entered, many of them rubbing at their eyes or yawning. Alfred wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep, but they needed to get their friends back, as soon as possible, so they could finally get off this dust-bowl of a planet. He looked at the trio who had entered. They were led by a tall woman clearly of Daernic heritage. She looked to be in her early 30s or so, and had dark brown hair pulled upwards into an updo. Her eyes were the bright green-gold which denoted her as Daernic, and she wore a simple, brown military uniform. Despite the severe expression on her face, she was quite pretty.

Behind her was a man who seemed to be of Jhobrasian heritage – he looked rather bored of the whole situation, and another young Daernic woman. He also tripped over his own feet when he realised that the second woman was in fact the pesky prisoner who had started this mess. She looked a lot better than she had on the pirate’s ship – it was hardly surprising that he hadn’t recognised her, though she did look a little pale.

“Good evening.” The woman leading the trio said. “I’m sorry for the delay. You are here, as I understand it, to retrieve your friends?” they all nodded, relieved that they would finally be able to get out soon. The second woman was frowning at Arthur.

“You look a little poorly, Kirkland.” She said, tone flat. She didn’t seem to be openly resentful of his having imprisoned her, but Alfred was wary nonetheless. He pointedly ignored her, tightening his own grip on his stomach. The woman seemed to note this, and rummaged for something underneath the table in front of them. She emerged with a bucket, and thrust it at Arthur before stepping back. He accepted it and wrapped his arms around as he drew it into his lap. Alfred frowned. The guy seriously did look like he was about to be violently sick.  

“We have set a bail for your friends.” The older woman said. “100,000 marks in total for all four of them.” Matthias, wearing his mask of a fearsome bounty hunter, held up a hand, beckoning her to stop.

“How do we know for certain you even have our friends?” he said. “For all we know, they could be on the other side of the Universe.” The woman seemed to consider this for a moment, before nodding to the man beside her.

“Fetch one of them, if you will, Ehsan.” He executed a short nod, before disappearing out the tent flaps.

Matthias was staring the woman down threateningly, though she seemed supremely unimpressed by his efforts.

“Have our friends been treated well while in your custody?” Matthias asked, tone measured and professional, though Alfred could see the danger lurking in his eyes. The woman rolled her eyes.

“They have been treated as well as such a band of criminals deserves.” She said icily. Matthias stiffened, looking ready to confront her if necessary. Before the tall blond could open his mouth, however, the other woman spoke up.

“They have been treated humanely, and are in fairly good physical condition. They received a few injuries during the scuffle on your ship, but they have been seen to by a medic. None of them is in danger of dying, I promise.” The older woman glared at her, but Matthias relaxed at her words, nodding to her. There were a few more moments of silence, before they heard noise from outside. Someone shouted, and tent flaps opened, revealing the man from before – Ehsan – hauling Feliks along by his arm.

Alfred felt his entire body relaxing when he saw that the other man was okay. He had only been able to think about the bullet wounds he’d seen on him when he’d first been kidnapped. To see that their group’s second-in-command was still fighting fit was a relief like none other. Feliks didn’t seem very pleased to be getting dragged along by the man, though his entire expression transformed when he saw them.

“Guys!” he cried out, a grin stretching across his face. “You crazy bastards. You actually came all this way for us?” Matthias was grinning almost uncontrollably.

“Of course we did! What would I do without my second?” he gestured to the rest of them. “These guys are hopeless.” Alfred sent him a mock-glare, though he couldn’t maintain it for more than a moment before his smile returned full-force. “Are the others okay?” Matthias continued. Feliks nodded, and Alfred felt anxiety tumble off his shoulders.

“In that case,” Matthias said, “we’ll pay you. 100,000, was it?” the woman nodded. The man, Ehsan, untied Feliks, and shoved him forward, looking disgruntled. Matthias didn’t even hesitate to hug him, and Alfred was right behind him. It had been six weeks since they’d seen them. Feliks’ wounds seemed to have healed okay since then, which was another relief. Alfred started chatting to Feliks, asking about what had happened after they’d been taken. Feliks had been halfway through explaining what had happened on Galee when a beeping noise caught their attention. The transfer of money from Matthias’ accounts into those of the rebels had finished, but Alfred’s attention was caught by the expression on the woman’s face. Matthias turned away, to make some remark to Berwald behind him. Alfred saw the woman raise her hand and gesture to someone behind them.

He had no time to react, before he found himself being seized from behind. He struggled, but went completely still when he felt the cold metal of a gun barrel press into his temple. The woman nodded in satisfaction.

“What the hell are you doing?” Matthias yelled, struggling against his captor despite the shotgun aimed at his neck. The woman glanced at him, smiling slightly.

“Business. Things could turn out a lot more profitable for us if you stay here for a little while. Not to mention, you are yet to pay for the crime of kidnapping and imprisoning one of our fighters.” Alfred turned, expecting to see the younger woman triumphant. He was verifiably stunned to see a look of profound horror on the woman’s face as she whirled to face the older woman.

“What? Octavia, no! You promised you would let them go! They haven’t done anything! Besides,” she sent a pointed look at Arthur, “they look like they’ve suffered enough just getting here.” the woman, Octavia, paid her no mind.

“Put them in a cell. They can stay together, I suppose. Use the large cell in the block.” Alfred could hear the other woman’s continued protests, but they went unacknowledged as they were dragged from the tent. He struggled fiercely, but his captor was much stronger than he was. Arthur wasn’t even trying to fight, just letting himself be dragged along.

Alfred felt hopelessness sink into his bones as they were dragged into a prison block. He heard distant shouting, before the clanking of metal met his ears as he was thrown into a cell. Mei landed directly on his back. Slightly winded, he just managed to move away before Antonio could land on them, too. He pressed his back against the cold stone wall, shuddering. The others were all groaning as they disentangled themselves from other another. The door slammed shut, and he let out a noise resembling a whimper.

Everyone seemed to be in shock, like it hadn’t sunk in yet. Alfred buried his face in his hands.

“Oh god. They’re never going to let us go. We’ll be their prisoners forever.”

“Hey, I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” Antonio said, clearly trying to diffuse the situation. “Didn’t they say they’d put us on trial or something?”

“What the fuck do you think is the likelihood that they’ll find us innocent?” he said despondently. The walls felt like they were closing in on him. Back when he lived in the orphanage, after his parents’ meagre sum of love for him had run dry, they used to lock children in small rooms just like this cell when they were bad. Alfred, being as vivacious a child as he was, had often been locked in one. Abruptly, the crushing sensation vanished. He looked up.

Arthur, face almost grey in colour, and looking sicker than he had this entire journey, was gripping Alfred’s hand like a vice.

“We’ll be fine,” he said, voice grating like stone, “if they try anything we can fight our way out. That’s what we’ve all been doing for years, isn’t it?” Alfred blinked, slowly nodding. He felt Arthur loosening his grip on his hand, and he abruptly grabbed it again. Arthur looked at him briefly, glancing around at the others. Now that Alfred had calmed down, their attention was elsewhere. Arthur looked back at him, and slowly intertwined their fingers, moving their clasped hands down, where the others couldn’t see. Alfred felt himself calming down. He relaxed, and slumped against the wall, angling his body slightly towards Arthur. He felt the pirate squeeze his hand.

They were all quiet for a while, until Feliks spoke up.

“Some of the rebels around here are quite decent, you know. The ones who kidnapped us are among the nicest ones. They wouldn’t let anything bad happen.” He leant against the wall, crossing his legs. “We just have to hope that Matthew or one of the others hears about this.”

Francis frowned. “Is that one of the rebels?” Feliks nodded.

“Yeah, he’s…” Feliks glanced over at Alfred, hesitating.

“…he’s one of the rebels.” The blond finished, rolling his shoulders. “He’ll make sure they don’t hurt us.”

They all nodded, one by one. They almost unanimously agreed that nothing would get better if they didn’t all sleep first, and they spread themselves out on the ground, most falling into a restless, nightmare-ridden sleep. Alfred was fast to fall asleep, mentally and emotionally exhausted by the day’s events.

He was surprised, when he woke up the next morning, to find that he was still holding Arthur’s hand. He wasn’t surprised that he was still holding onto the other, but at the fact that the pirate hadn’t let go, either.


	30. A Decision to Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back once more! Severe warning, I have a fuckton of exams coming up, so the next update is probably anywhere between 1-3 weeks away. Please be patient, and I'm sorry for the inevitable delay. As it happens, the next chapter is about half-finished already, but it's shaping up to be a long one, so yeah.
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- The bounty hunters and pirates have arrived at the rebel base on Nyma, and have been taken captive by Octavia's soldiers  
> \- Arthur is still very sick, and Matthias is still injured (my poor babies)  
> \- A legendary resistance fighter, Ayshe Kartal, has returned to the resistance, and is not happy about Yao's imprisonment  
> \- Tino and Elizabeta have been told about Yao's physical condition.
> 
> NAMES (Again, just in case):  
> Nelia Domingo: Peru  
> Ali Ghafoor: Afghanistan  
> Ayshe Kartal: Ottoman Empire  
> Ines Jakolin: Slovenia  
> Romeo Bianchi: Seborga
> 
> Also, Emilia is finally back this chapter (now that i've remembered she exists, lol)  
> I have a tumblr for this shitty story now as well! [The tumblr that I recommend you all come visit because I am lonely so come on, please?](https://huntingthestarsandetc.tumblr.com/)  
> Please comment, guys! It fuels my creative juices!!!

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma  
25th Maarch

Francis was woken up the next morning by having a yelling woman thrown on top of him.

He thrashed around in a frenzy, confusion and alarm overtaking him. It took a moment more of yelling and him accidentally punching whatever was in reach before his mind caught up to the situation, and he realised that the woman was Tori. He went still, shock coursing through him at the sight of her, before his gaze flew around the rest of the cell, only to that see Gilbert and Roderich had similarly been tossed into their midst. He blinked, then gave a yell of joy and hugged the equally perplexed woman still slumped over his legs. Tori was stiff as a board for a minute before she realised that the person underneath her was Francis, and promptly reciprocated his hug.

“What the hell?” he heard Matthias muttering in confusion. He could see the others reacting with bemusement as well, with Antonio’s jaw actually hanging open in shock when he spotted the other three. Francis could have sworn that he saw Arthur and Alfred holding hands as they too sat up and looked around, but chose to ignore it as he instead focussed on the joy of having their friends back. True, it wasn’t as ideal a situation as they had hoped, but it was better that they were all now together again.

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw Gilbert throw himself over Berwald to hug his sister. Louise, normally taciturn and grave, looked close to tears as the two slumped down against the wall together, speaking in frantic Incandan. Members of Arthur’s crew grinned in delight and all scrambled to hug Roderich and weasel the story out of him. Tori looked relieved beyond measure when she spotted Feliks.

“Oh, thank god!” she exclaimed, rushing over to hug the blond. “We didn’t know what had happened when they dragged you away! I thought I heard you guys’ voices last night, but I wasn’t sure…” Feliks grinned as she finally detached herself from him, performing a mock salute.

“I’m in good condition, don’t you worry.” He said as he brushed a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. Francis saw Tori blush, and raised an eyebrow. Feliks had clearly gotten smoother.

His musings were interrupted by a surprised exclamation of Gilbert’s.

“What in the system has happened to you?” The albino was speaking to Arthur. Francis felt his fists clench unconsciously. He looked around. Tori and Roderich’s attention had also been effectively captured by the captain’s deplorable state. Tori looked a little stunned, sympathy writ on her features. Roderich, however, looked pale, eyes faraway. The dark-haired man seemed to shake himself a little, though he still looked very uncomfortable and – Francis was more surprised by this than anything – a little sad.

“Nothing.” the stubborn pirate muttered, straightening a little. “I’m fine.” Gilbert raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing a word. The man clearly decided that the inevitable argument wasn’t worth it, however, and turned away to resume talking to his sister. Arthur seemed to relax a little, and Francis saw Alfred place a hand on the small of his back. Francis repressed his slight shudder when he saw the action. He didn’t know why it caused him so much discomfort. He and Arthur had never been close in that way, and he certainly didn’t feel that way about him right now. He forced his thoughts in a different direction. He’d been relapsing more since they had begun their journey with the pirates. Arthur brought bad memories with him, and Francis loathed the idea of losing progress because of him. He had worked too hard to let that happen.

He twitched away when he felt someone touch his arm, and pointedly ignored the odd look he received from Berwald, who quickly retracted his hand. The taller man, evidently having recognised Francis’ discomfort, raised an eyebrow at him. Francis brushed him off.

“I’m fine.” He muttered, pointedly looking away. Berwald wasn’t convinced, he could tell, but the other man didn’t raise the issue further, for which Francis was endlessly grateful.

They took the opportunity, now that they were all reunited again, to catch one another up on what had happened. In the madness which had enveloped last night, Feliks had never actually explained much of what had happened after they’d been kidnapped. Their stories of their encounter on Galee sent a shudder down Francis’ spine, and he smiled more genuinely than ever at Gilbert, shocked at how close he had come to losing his friend, without even realising it. Gilbert grinned back, clearly not entirely sure how they had survived, either.

Their stories about the rebels they had been captured by were somewhat comforting. None of them sounded particularly malevolent or twisted. Recalling the reaction of the pirates’ old prisoner – Elizabeta, he believed her name had been – was proof enough that not everyone around here was bent on trying them for their ‘crimes’.

Tori, Feliks, Roderich and Gilbert seemed equally fascinated with their stories of attempting to track them through the systems, their journey to meet and plan with Vash, and their disastrous trek through the Sulig Mountains.

“You guys actually got captured by a fucking mountain tribe.” Gilbert said, throwing his hands up dramatically. “Incredible.”

Matthias grinned. “Yup. What fun that was.” Gilbert shook his head, half-disbelieving but grinning like a maniac. They filled the next few hours with more chatter about how they had all ended up here, before their conversation turned a little graver.

“What do we do now?” Antonio asked. Vash scowled at his question.

“I don’t know about you, but I never intended to get captured.” He glowered at them all. Matthias glared right back.

“Well you promised us that the rebels were sensible. That they’d make the exchange and leave us alone.” He retorted sharply. Vash rubbed at his brow.

“They have been in the past. Even the Colonel we came here with promised us that they wouldn’t make a big fuss of it. Clearly, something bad has happened?” Alfred looked at him, confused.

“How do you figure that?”

Vash straightened a little. “Well, for starters, the mere fact that we are being imprisoned rather than just being allowed on our way is a clear indicator. Colonel Jakolin, and the Lieutenant seemed convinced that the whole exchange wouldn’t be a big affair. I’ve dealt with the rebels in the past, and they _are_ sensible people, at least most of the time. The kidnapping in the first place would have been a ploy to get money out of us, nothing more. They have no real specific qualms against us, or at least, the guy I’ve dealt with before hasn’t.” Before any of them could speak, he was continuing on.

“That subordinate who objected against us being imprisoned is another clue. Evidently, there’s some disagreement on how we should have been dealt with. That woman who ordered we be thrown in here clearly has the power to override a decision that might have previously been made. Also, everyone seemed so on edge while we were walking through camp. They all looked distracted or worried.” He shrugged, folding his arms. “Clearly, some major change has happened, likely in the last few days or weeks, judging by how the Colonel wasn’t aware of it. It’s likely some sort of leadership change, which also explains the contrasts in their treatment of _us_.”

They were all silent for a moment, staring open-mouthed at Vash. Roderich was the first to recover, closing his mouth and blinking in surprise.

“You…that’s…very perceptive, of you.” Vash inclined his head ever so slightly, looking supremely unimpressed even by his own deductive reasoning. Any further conversation was cut off, however, when they heard the sound of clapping from behind them, and froze.

“You know, if you weren’t a union-aligned criminal, I’d ask you to join the resistance here and now.” They all spun around. A woman stood behind the barred door, smirking at them. When they stared at her inquisitively, she sighed and raised the large wicker basket she held in her hands. “Breakfast for all of you pathetic shits.” Francis blinked. He had been wrapped up in the conversation, but realised as she spoke how incredibly hungry he was. Feliks was staring out of the small barred window in their cell with a raised eyebrow.

“It looks like it’s almost mid-day.” He commented mildly. The woman frowned slightly.

“I know. The person on-duty is a little…let’s say forgetful.” Her tone was casual enough, but the concern laced in her eyes made Francis pause. Evidently, there was something else at play here. His mind was quickly turned elsewhere when she unlocked the door and stepped inside, offering them the basket. After seizing his own share of food from inside, he took a moment to observe her.

She was Fynknian, that much was obvious, and had very fair skin, hair so pale it looked white, and dark grey eyes as a result. Her hair was long, and had been braided on the left side of her head, with the rest hanging free. She was fairly pretty, he supposed, if a little off-putting from the glower on her face. She was wearing a white singlet, black pants and a dark blue jacket with the sleeves rolled up above her elbows. Her feet were adorned with worn-looking brown boots. Looking at her, he could see at least three knives strapped on either her belt or her thighs, and guessed that she could probably have far more hidden on her person.

Just as he was thinking that she looked familiar, Yael’s face shifted into a scowl.

“I remember you,” she said, “you helped to kidnap our friends.” The woman tilted her head to the side, leaning against the bars.

“I did, yes.” She raised an eyebrow. “What of it?” Yael scowled at her, but didn’t respond. Feliks, who had also been observing her closely, nodded a little.

“Oh, yeah, I remember now. Your name is….” he trailed off, evidently thinking. “Kari?” the woman grinned.

“Nice memory you have there.” She said. Her amusement quickly faded from her face, however, and the troubled look returned. She swept her eyes over them, before they landed on Arthur. “Oh, that’s right.” She muttered to herself, twisting and seizing a bucket she’d had sitting behind her and handing it to him. “Kindly try not to throw up everywhere.” He accepted it meekly, not offering so much as a word of argument. Francis frowned. The Arthur he knew hated conceding any sort of weakness, and hated accepting help from people, especially strangers. But this…and how he had let both Francis himself and Alfred help him yesterday? That was out of character. Clearly, whatever he was sick with, it was severe enough that the stubborn pirate, for once, was accepting his own limitations.

Kari let her eyes linger on the pale man for a moment before she turned to observing them all again. She raised an eyebrow when her eyes landed on Alfred.

“Shit. So, it is true, then. You guys really have a hell of a resemblance.” Alfred stared at her, perplexed. Francis himself was also baffled. What in the system was she talking about?

Upon seeing their confused and muddled expressions, she gave a short laugh, turning her attention to Feliks. “I would have thought that you would have let slip already.” Feliks looked shocked, and a little pale. He looked away as Alfred turned to him, looking bemused.

“No-one was really in the mood to hear about it last night.” The blond murmured, frowning.

Kari shrugged. “Explain it if you want to.” Without another word, she turned and exited their cell, firmly shutting and locking the door behind her.

All eyes were on Feliks and the other three. The blond sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. Alfred looked apprehensive.

“Feliks? What was she talking about?” he asked, a definitive note of panic in his voice now. Feliks sighed.

“There’s a rebel fighter here, one of the guys who kidnapped us, who looks _really_ similar to you. I know you had a brother, so that’s who I assume he is. His name’s Matthew, if that helps at all.” Alfred had looked wary and guarded from Feliks’ first words, but at the mention of the name ‘Matthew’, the blood drained from his face.

“It could be someone else,” Alfred finally said, looking deeply shaken, “I don’t know why you would think this guy is related to me.” Feliks frowned, leaning forward.

“Al, when I say that he looks similar to you, I mean insanely so. He’s the fucking uncanny valley edition of you, if you were blonder and had purple eyes.”

“And much more attractive.” Gilbert unhelpfully added. Alfred shot the albino a quelling glare, which made the light-hearted smile fall from Gilbert’s face as he leaned back, frowning. Alfred seemed to have trouble processing the very idea, and Francis saw Feliks’ frown deepen when Alfred started to shake his head.

“No, stop it. Stop lying.” He muttered at them, looking more and more incensed. “My brother died when I was 10. Stop trying to get my hopes up, okay? It’s not helping. I’ve dealt with the whole thing already.” Arthur, still seated next to Alfred, hesitated before slowly placing his hand on Alfred’s arm.

“It might be a bit to take it, but it could be true.” He said, looking wary. “You shouldn’t dismiss it as a lie so quickly.” Alfred harshly jerked his arm away from the pirate, glaring at him as well.

“Shut up, you don’t know anything about it.” He snapped. Arthur’s expression hardened.

“Not this case specifically, no, but I’ve been around a little longer than you have.” He retorted. “You aren’t an expert on everything.”

“Neither are you!” Alfred said, voice rising in volume. Arthur flinched away a little at the noise, but didn’t speak again. Huffing angrily, Alfred moved to the other end of the cell, sulking. Francis could see Feliks shaking his head slightly. Whether or not they were telling the truth, which Francis was fairly sure they were, based on the words of the Fynknian woman, Kari, that conversation had not gone very well.

* * *

Emilia glanced around curiously. Matthew had called for an emergency meeting not long ago, sending the message to only a few select people. She wouldn’t lie, she was quite surprised by some of the people she saw. Granted, she didn’t know a large plethora of people within the resistance, much less who was loyal to whom, but there were certainly a few unfamiliar faces. Hopefully, Matthew knew what he was doing by gathering them all here.

She recognised several of them, of course; Elizabeta, Tino, Kari, Nelia and Ali were very familiar to her. The others; Vladimir, Kristian, Ayshe, Ines and Romeo, were not, and she had to be introduced to them. Kari introduced her under the moniker of ‘Laila’, as usual, so she assumed that whatever the purpose of this meeting was, it wasn’t anything to do with her and Lukas specifically.

She turned as her brother entered the small clearing alongside Matthew, grinning at them both. Though Lukas returned her smile, Matthew looked drawn and worried. Her happy mood disintegrated a little, concern replacing it.

Matthew looked around, seemingly checking that everyone he had asked along had shown up, or perhaps that no-one else had tagged along. He sighed, and Emilia tensed. This wasn’t going to be good news, she could already tell.

“Ok, everyone’s here. First off, thanks for actually showing up.” Emilia supressed a giggle when she saw Ayshe giving him a sombre salute, standing at attention. Some of the tension was dispersed, and Emilia was relieved to see Matthew smiling at the older woman’s antics before he continued. “I was going to also ask Mohammed to come, but I don’t know how is he with bending rules, or even if he’s as loyal to Yao as we are.” Ayshe nodded, frowning slightly.

“Yeah, good decision. Their history has been a little rocky.” Matthew nodded in acknowledgement, before speaking again.

“Now, you guys might know this, or you might not. Last night, the friends of the four prisoners we took arrived here to pick them up in exchange for the bail that was set for them.” He sighed, hanging his head. “Octavia had them all arrested and thrown in prison for the supposed crime of holding Elizabeta prisoner.”

Emilia glared at nothing in particular, but said nothing, waiting for Matthew to go on.

“According to the procedures meeting I just overheard, her plan is still to weasel more money out of them, and then have them executed in the next fortnight or so.”

Ayshe made an alarmed, angry noise, looking dismayed, but didn’t comment.

“Now,” Matthew said, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I personally don’t like how Octavia has been running things around here. We all know that Yao is no spy. The real traitor is actively working to continue sowing dissent among our ranks. If we don’t put an end to this, Yao could be wrongfully convicted, and everything that the resistance has struggled to build could be destroyed again.” They all looked down.

“So, what do you suggest?” Ines chimed in. Matthew bit his lip.

“We need to find the real spy before Yao’s trial. If we don’t, evidence could be twisted around to make him look guilty, and one of our best leaders could be executed.”

“But his trial is only in four days! How are we meant to find the spy in our ranks before the 29th?”

“We can do it.” He said. “So far, we’ve been trying to find the spy by looking at people’s backgrounds, their connections and needs. If we want to find this person, we need to really get inside their head.” As he spoke the last few words, his gaze landed on Lukas. Emilia saw her brother give a small, barely perceptible nod. Matthew looked away.

“I know it might be hard, and there aren’t that many of us, but we can do it, I know we can.”

Emilia silently counted them all. There were only thirteen of them in total. Not very many to stand against an established order and track down one traitor in an organisation made up of millions, but hey, they could work with what they had. Besides, the majority of the people here were unaware of how she and Lukas could help. Their powers would definitely give them an edge over those already investigating the case of the spy.

“Alright, this sounds like it could be fun.” Romeo Bianchi said, grinning. “What shall we do first?”

Matthew grinned. “I was hoping for suggestions.” The young Syhvvanian’s grin stretched even wider.

“I think, while we look for the real spy, that we buy ourselves as much time as possible. Our efforts will be worth it more if we can definitively establish that Yao isn’t the spy. It could be hard. Octavia will be pulling all the stops to try and get him convicted and put this whole thing to rest. We need to make it as hard for her as possible to do that.” Ali said after a moment of deliberation. Matthew cocked his head to the side.

“What do you suggest?” Ali shrugged.

“We can’t directly interfere with evidence, since it’ll only cast suspicion on us. What we _can_ do is unnerve them. Make them lose confidence in their own arguments. If we distract them well enough, they won’t be able to focus on the case, and they won’t argue their point as well.” Emilia stared at her mentor.

“You are much craftier than I give you credit for.” She remarked. Ali grinned at her, ruffling her hair a little like he normally did after an afternoon training session.

“I take pride in it.” He said.      

“Brilliant idea, but how would we actually accomplish it?” Tino inquired. Emilia thought for a moment, before it occurred to her.

“We already have a way to distract her!” she exclaimed. “Those prisoners – she’s planning to have them killed. Even though the trial is her major concern right now, I’d say they’re also taking up a decent amount of her attention. She wants them dead because they took Elizabeta, and because they could spread secrets about where our base is, right?” Matthew nodded, gesturing for her to continue. “Well,” she hesitated, “what if we make her believe that they’ve gotten free somehow? She’d be so worried that the trial would take a backseat.”

Nelia, who was standing on her other side, gave a great whoop and dragged her into a one-armed hug. “Yes! This is why we should increase our Fynknian population!” she said, beaming. “You’re all too damn useful.” Matthew was also nodding, smiling at Emilia confidently.

“That…that could definitely work.” He said, already seemingly thinking out the details. “We couldn’t actually just let them go, though. We’d have to keep them somewhere else until the heat dies down, or Yao is back.” They all nodded, before Kristian chimed in.

“There’s a disused storage container way out in the outskirts of Draak-Zafi,” he said, “It’s not far from Yao’s. We could keep them there until the trial is over.” Matthew was nodding again, clearly getting excited over their budding plan.

He held his arms out to calm everyone down. “Okay, okay. That could work…This could actually work. We’d need to do it pretty soon, though, if we want to make any sort of difference. Not tonight; we haven’t got nearly enough time to plan this out and do it right.” He bit his lip, looking around at them all. “What about the night of the 27th?” they all nodded, and Matthew clasped his hands together. “Okay, the 27th it is. We’ll need to start working through the details, then.” He seized a Cell from his pocket, and jerked his head at them. “Ayshe, Elizabeta, Tino, Ali, we’ll start working out the basic machinations of this. Vlad, Kristian, Lukas, you guys need to start stocking up on supplies, like food and ammunition.” They all nodded.

“Kari, Ines, Laila, Romeo, I need you guys to try and get any information that you can about the trial.” They all nodded. “Anything could be helpful, so keep your ears open. We’ll tell you all about our plan once we have it finalised.” Emilia nodded.  

They all dispersed, bidding farewell to one another. Emilia’s thoughts were racing as she walked away. Her attention was caught only when she felt someone sling an arm over her shoulders. Looking up in surprise, she relaxed slightly when she saw that it was Kari.

“Everything will work out okay, don’t you worry.” Kari said when she spotted the concerned look on Emilia’s face. She nodded.

“Yeah, I hope so.” She murmured. Kari sighed, stopping in her tracks.

“I meant to tell you…” she trailed off for a moment, “…Vlad knows.” Emilia looked at her in confusion.

“What? Knows about what?” Kari glanced around before bending down a little.

“He knows who you and Lukas are.” Emilia froze, immediately feeling panic rise inside her. Kari must have seen some sign of it in her eyes because she squeezed her shoulders. “He won’t say a word, trust me. I’ve known Vlad for years. He would never spill a secret like that.” Emilia barely felt comforted by that, but didn’t comment, choosing to nod mutely. Kari sighed again, drawing her into a quick hug. “I promise this whole thing will be over in a few days.”

Emilia nodded again, leaning into Kari. She’d spent so much time training with Ali in the last few weeks that she had hardly seen her brother, or anyone else for that matter. She liked training, really, though it had taken a few lessons for Ali to get her to stop calling him ‘Mr Ghafoor’. But she had almost forgotten what it was like to be held like this. Lukas had never been overtly tactile, but he had still shown affection. She supposed that she had been a little starved of that in the last few weeks. Kari grinned at her when they separated.

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off? You’ve been training pretty hard with Ali, from what I hear.” Emilia grinned.

“Seriously?” Kari nodded.

“Yup. Captain’s orders.” Laughing, Emilia bid farewell to the older girl and set off through the trees. Their plan was insane, and would most likely get them all arrested or put on trial themselves, but maybe, just maybe, it could actually work.


	31. The Pains We Suffer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI HI HUMANS
> 
> I've somehow returned from the state of near-death which most of my exams have brought me to give you guys another chapter! I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I have been trying to update every week - roughly every Friday or Saturday (in Eastern Australian time, that is). Next week is also a busy week for me, though the next chapter is well underway, so just be warned, in case.
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- A group of rebel fighters (composed of Matthew, Emilia, Lukas, Ayshe, Vlad, Kristian, Ines, Romeo, Kari, Elizabeta, Tino, Ali and Nelia) have decided to attempt to free the imprisoned bounty hunters/pirates in an attempt to unnerve Octavia.  
> \- The bounty hunters and pirates + Vash have finally been reunited with Feliks, Tori, Gilbert and Roderich. Feliks has told Alfred about Matthew, but Alfred is fearful and reluctant to believe him.  
> \- Arthur is still sick, and Matthias is still injured.
> 
> NAMES:  
> Ehren Edelstein: Kugelmugel  
> Ehsan Karimi: Iran  
> Aelia Gabras: Byzantine Empire  
> Dalisay Mendoza: Philippines
> 
> ALSO: Please subscribe to the series this belongs to if you want to keep reading part 2! I'll take some time to edit this and fix up the tags (which i set with the assumption that this would only be one story) but after that hopefully i can get my ass into gear and start writing part 2!

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma  
26th Maarch

“So, I can’t even shower now?” Yao complained, letting his head loll back for a moment before looking back at the grumpy guards outside his door.

“You’ll have the chance to clean yourself up on the day of your trial.” One of them sighed, clearly quickly losing patience. “For now, you’re to be monitored closely.” Yao sighed overdramatically, slumping back against the wall.

“This is boring.”

“Stop complaining.”

“I want food.”

“You only had breakfast an hour ago.”

“But I’m hungry again.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“You’re mean.”

Yao could see one of the guards was trying her hardest to not laugh, while the one he had been speaking with seemed to be performing some sort of meditative breathing exercise. He suppressed his own grin. Octavia really should have found people with more patience to watch him. He had spent hours caring for small refugee children back when Arshad was alive. He knew every single one of the most efficient ways to annoy adults. Yao sat back against the wall, tilting his head upward to gaze at the ceiling.

He hadn’t been put in the same cell block as the criminals that Matthew and the others had kidnapped. He was instead being kept in a small, separate cell in a small clearing ringed by trees. Honestly, Yao would rather have been in the same cell block as the criminals. This cell got a lot hotter during the day, and he had hardly been able to think yesterday for the sheer heat emanating from the walls.

So far, the worst part of being held captive was not processing the fact that a large portion of rebels distrusted him, it was not being able to take proper care of his hands. Normally he took the time, every night, to clean them and put cream on them to keep their tough, leathery exterior somewhat moisturised. He could still use them, but their outsides grew tougher and harder, and in the worst cases, pain would shoot up through the outside layers of muscle. Without skin to protect them, they could get dried out and infected a lot more easily.

His hands twitched. Trapped inside his gloves, as they had been for the past few days, with no reprieve, they were starting to chafe and itch horribly. The pain was also starting to come back, and he kept attempting to flex them and get more blood flowing. He ached to remove his high-collared jacket and strip off his gloves to escape the heat, but dared not to. He knew what sorts of things he would be asked at his trial, though he wished he was wrong. Part of Octavia’s central reasoning behind his being a spy was his penchant for wearing gloves and jackets with long sleeves and high necks.

His fingers slid along the right side of his neck. The mark was completely hidden by the neck of the black jacket he currently wore, but he could feel the raised scar tissue even through the stiff fabric. The mark had been carved into his skin about two months into his time on the Arbiter, before he had learned all of the different types of pain they were ready to inflict. It was a Yanish word, one which he knew well. Anyone with such a mark on their neck was immediately recognisable as a victim of the Arbiter’s methods.

One of his other reasons for wearing such modest clothing was a much less important factor. Underneath the stiff fabric, he was actually quite muscular. However, as someone who preferred to be under rather than over-estimated, he enjoyed it when people were unable to accurately predict his strength and speed.

Not to mention, as well as likely exposing his deplorable physical appearance, no doubt he would be forced to expose a lot of details about his past, as well. He had been in tribunals like the one he would face in 3 days’ time. Often, one of the first things to be asked of the accused was their personal details. Yao had never actively tried to hide anything about his life before his involvement with the resistance, but the idea of sharing it was strangely uncomfortable. The sorts of things they would ask concerned his life before he’d been struck with purpose, before he had understood the vastness and danger that the universe posed. Back then, he had been naïve, but not young. They would ask him about where he came from, to be sure, and their questioning would undoubtedly also include Arshad. He sighed. That was not a line of questioning that he was keen to answer, mostly because he feared the sorts of answers he would give.

But no matter what questions he was asked, his trial was bound to go badly, of that he was sure.

* * *

Roderich despised sickbeds.

For years, he had been unable to stomach spending time with the ill and stricken. Many people had written him off as unsympathetic because of it, but he cared less about people’s judgements than he did about staying far away. If it was someone he cared about deeply, he would dismiss his own comfort for their sake, but anything less and he would flatly refuse to go near them.

Though this didn’t count so much as a ‘sickbed’ as it did ‘a sick person curled up in the most substantial mattress they had’, he was plagued by discomfort and unease. Though he supposed that he did care for Arthur, to a certain extent, he had been edging further away from the captain for the past day. He could hardly stand to see the sallow, grey tone of his skin, or the worn smudges under his eyes. He had managed to acclimate himself to the smell of vomit, which had managed to pervade every inch of their cell – for that, he could not blame the other pirate.

Arthur was definitely sick, but with what, none of them were very sure. One of the rebels that they had travelled there with had apparently already dismissed heatstroke, and in any case, Roderich knew that heatstroke didn’t supply symptoms like these. He sighed. In reality, all that Arthur’s sickness was doing was reminding him of his own mother, Sera, who had died only a few years ago. It had been the ordeal that she went through which had so turned him off hospitals and the like.

The fact that it was _Arthur_ that was now sick felt like some sort of cruel joke.

* * *

_Hospital of Saint Cerak-sho,_  
Vanmerrk Sector, Reycass  
7th Juillat, 4508CC

_Roderich grimaced, glancing around with discomfort. He’d been here sporadically over the last few months, ever since she was diagnosed, but it never got easier to handle being inside this place. At first, it hadn’t bothered him so much, but as time passed, the smell of disinfectant, underlined by a faint, sweet musk of death, had started to turn his stomach. The sterile, detached feel of the hospital didn’t help._

_But, by far, what bothered him most, was the_ sickness _._

_The sight of people, bed-ridden and suffering their various ailments, brought unease to his very bones. He knew that those with contagious diseases were confined to quarantine wards, and that he wasn’t about to catch some sort of illness, but the air itself felt dirty – thick and clogged with muck._

_It was unwise to open the windows, though. Reycass was a heavily polluted planet, as it had been for a long time now, and opening the windows to allow some fresh air was more likely to make the patients in here worse. The doctors and nurses likely didn’t want to risk it._

_He spared a glance upwards as a young Garvich nurse entered the small waiting area. She worked here almost every day, and Roderich had interacted with her on more than one occasion. She barely looked at him, nodding him through quickly. As he moved to pass her, she took his arm, talons digging into his skin a little._

_“I should warn you,” she said falteringly, “she’s worsened.” He was still for a moment, before nodding and continuing on. His mother’s condition had been deteriorating for the past few weeks. He’d only been here a fortnight ago, however. If she’d worsened in such a short period of time…_

_Well, it was further proof that she didn’t have much longer to go._

_In a way, it was a relief. His mother was suffering, that much was obvious. The last he’d been to see her, her every breath had emerged laboured and rattling, and she’d paused more than once to cough blood into the metal pans kept beside nearly every bed in the ward. He hated to see her like this, but he’s sworn to visit her._

“Every chance you get, Roderich, up until my last days, please. You make everything here bearable. _”_

_How could he deny her that? His own younger brother, Ehren, was too small to really understand what was happening. He had gotten frightened the first few times he’d come to visit her, not recognising her properly. It had made his mother cry for hours afterward. Ehren had gotten over it, of course – he was a resilient little guy – but Roderich had decided that it would be better if he stayed away when their mother was going through a particularly bad day._

_Like today._

_He flinched almost instinctively as he entered the ward. There were about 10 beds in this particular room. They hadn’t been able to afford anything much fancier, given how expensive their mother’s treatment was generally. His mother had fought when he’d said that she was going to be taken care of. She had argued vehemently – stated that their money was to be saved for Ehren to go through school, and to keep themselves housed, clothed and fed. Roderich had ignored her protests and paid for her treatment for three months, before her tearful begging became too much, and she was transferred off the treatment – known to most as ‘malthecs’, whatever it meant – and sent to this ward to let the disease run it’s course._

_His mother had never judged his decision to work as a pirate on the side of his university studies, and had always simply stated that it was his money to earn, and his to spend. She had grinned happily when he recounted the thrilling escapades which he had gotten caught up in while in Arthur’s service. She had chastised his father when he’d started to yell at Roderich for becoming a criminal. But his mother… well, Sera Edelstein never shrunk away from reality._

_He braced himself as he entered the ward, moving automatically toward her bed, unable to hold back the small noise of dismay which escaped his throat when he sighted her._

_Chalydrantis was such a vicious disease._

_But his mother, despite the pain that she was undoubtedly in, sent a smile brighter than any supernova in his direction, and he managed to weakly return it as he sat beside her, staring in dismay at the newest damages wrought on her body. She smiled, less vibrantly this time, drawing her blankets closer to her. Even with them masking her frame, he could tell that she was frightfully ill._

_Chalydrantis was like that. It attacked every fibre of your body, in every way that it could._

_It had started with fatigue and weakness, in his mother’s case, followed shortly by her breathing difficulties, and fainting, and her bringing up blood. The disease caused large growths similar to tumours inside the body, but, unlike cancers, were not deadly for their role in making organs shut down. They certainly did that, too, but their greatest capacity to inflict damage lay elsewhere. The growths released a constant stream of toxins into the bloodstream. They affected a lot of things. Most notably, the toxins seemed to be drawn towards keratin. It led to pale skin, dark blotches on the nails, and, the most well-known of all –_

_“It doesn’t look that bad.” He lied. Sera smiled warmly, running her worn, skeletal hands through her hair. Once, it had been a rich shade of dark blond, but now, racked by the disease as she was, every strand on her head had turned grey. It wasn’t even – there were patches of hair which were closer to white, leaving her entire head mottled and strange. Roderich swallowed. So, this was why his mother had asked to see him. The colour of a person’s hair only started to change when the toxins’ concentration in the blood was reaching lethal levels._

_At the very least, his mother’s suffering was almost over. He clenched the edge of his coat in his hands._

_“Is this it, then? Is this going to be the last time I see you?” he tried to keep his voice steady, but it shook nonetheless. His mother took his hand. She didn’t chastise him, or say that he shouldn’t cry. He was a man of 23 years, but she didn’t tell him to let her go._

_“I’ll be alright.” She said. “Your father will be with me, and it will be painless. I’ll be free of this tired and wrecked vessel.” She gestured to her own body, smiling sadly. Roderich bit his lip, trying desperately to keep himself under control. If he was weaker, or even just a little younger, he would have succumbed to tears already, and sought her comfort. But the time for that was over. Now, it was his mother who needed his comfort._

_“Do you want me to come by on the day? I can bring Ehren, so he can say goodbye as well.” She smiled._

_“I would like that. I don’t want either of you to stick around, though. If you do, I don’t think I’ll have the conviction to go through with it.” She laughed weakly. “It’s just a little injection, but…” she shrugged. “It’s a lot.” Roderich squeezed her hand._

_“Are you certain, ma?” he said. “It’s your decision, no matter what.”_

_His mother just looked at him, and opened her arms. He reciprocated her embrace without hesitation._

_“Oh, Roderich.” She said, sounding teary. “I love you so, so much. But…” she drew away, smiling through her tears, “I’m ready for the next adventure.”_

* * *

_Roderich knew that he had been acting out emotionally lately, but he could hardly find it in him to care. He felt like there was a timer held inside his chest. Only a day left to go…_

_Only a day left until his mother’s heart ceased to beat like his did. When he thought about it, he realised that it was a constant of his life. Every moment up until tomorrow afternoon, his mother’s heart had bravely beat alongside his own. It had beat long before he was born and he had thought, given his new area of work, that it would probably continue to beat after his own no longer could._

_The idea of his mother – his vibrant, friendly, kind and quick-witted mother – dying left a chasm in his chest. He could act unfeeling at times, but he loved his family. He loved his father, and his younger brother, and of course he loved his mother. Hell, he even loved his wild and unfortunately inbred cousin. He cared about his family, because he was privileged enough to have one which cared about him in return._

_His low mood had been noticed by the others. Arthur, a sharp-tongued blond with an accent reminiscent, oddly, of Xexei, had been giving him curious looks for the past few days. Despite the age gap between them both – Roderich was 23, while Arthur was only 20 – Roderich never bothered to defy any of the captain’s orders. He was more of an associate than an employee, but he still did what he was told. Arthur, as it currently stood, didn’t have any other friends. They were sharing an apartment with a bad-tempered arms dealer called Erikk, but they both ignored him for the most part. Arthur had easily picked up on Roderich’s sour mood – likely due in some part to the sour look on his face, and had been prodding him all day for details._

_In the end, Roderich brought it up himself. “I’ll be out tomorrow afternoon, so don’t wait up.” The second part was unnecessary – Arthur wouldn’t have been bothered to wait up for Roderich anyway. The blond, who had been raising a mug of tea to his lips, froze with it poised halfway between the table and his mouth, a frown crossing over his features._

_“Alright then. Any particular reason why you’re going out?” he asked, resuming to sip his tea. Roderich shrugged, feeling oddly angry that Arthur had asked._

_“None of your business.” He snapped. His voice came out with way more venom than he had intended, and Arthur’s eyebrows skyrocketed up his forehead._

_“No need to get fired up.” he said coolly. “It was just a question.”_

_Roderich nodded sharply, and they didn’t talk much after that._

* * *

_Arthur ended up following him the next day._

_Evidently, his behaviour had been caustic enough to arouse some of the pirate’s attention, and the purpose of his visit to the hospital had made the blond curious. Roderich only realised that Arthur had been following him when the pirate tapped on his shoulder right outside the entrance._

_He didn’t remember much of what had been said – his memory had chosen to focus on his mother’s last moments rather than the argument the two of them had had outside. In the end, Arthur had somehow ended up trailing Roderich through the hospital’s halls, and Roderich had let him._

_They had lingered for a moment outside the ward, before Roderich had moved inside, knowing that it would be the last time. Arthur, upon spotting the sign on the door, had paled and gaped, evidently realising at least one of the reasons for Roderich’s rotten mood. But he had still followed Roderich inside, staring around with an expression caught between shock and horror, overlaid by an immense wave of pity. Roderich had never seen the pirate pity anyone, and he would have picked him up on it if not for the situation._

_Roderich’s mother had been happy to see him, and surprisingly happy to see Arthur. She’d extended a hand from her place in bed, and introduced herself, saying simply that she was glad to meet him. Knowing what he did of his mother, she had meant it._

_Arthur had been uncomfortable and out of place, and had scampered out of the ward only a few moments after Sera had explained why Roderich had come to see her that particular day. Roderich had managed to get a few minutes with his mother, to say their final farewells, before the doctor had entered, smiled kindly, and informed them that they were ready._

_By the time Roderich had left the hospital, it had been dark. To his immense surprise, Arthur had been lingering outside. He hadn’t left, though it had been over three hours since he’d left the ward. The pirate’s eyes were troubled, and unease was fraught throughout his entire body, but Roderich had cried enough tears, and didn’t expect the blond to comfort him._

_They ended up walking together, silently, downtown. Arthur had jerked his head towards a small, niche café, and they’d somehow passed a few hours there, sitting in silence, nibbling at some food, and ordering a few drinks. Arthur seemed almost as discomfited as Roderich did, and not a word passed between them for the entire evening. They’d been similarly quiet with one another for the next few days after, until Roderich had walked into their cramped kitchen one morning and asked if they had any milk left._

_They had never spoken about it, not once. Arthur had never tried to offer condolences, for which Roderich was grateful, but he had been a constant presence in the days after. It had…helped, more than words with any therapist could have._

_As it turned out, Arthur hated hospitals almost as much as Roderich did._

* * *

He was afraid. Roderich would never admit it, even on threat of death, but he was afraid.

* * *

Octavia frowned at the table. Her conscience teemed with anger and shame, but the part of her brain responsible for logic and reason was urgent, and pressing.

Ehsan and Aelia had gotten caught up in another argument on the matter. In the end, the decision was hers to make, but it was still a dangerous decision to make.

They were human. Living, breathing human beings…

But they were criminals – bounty hunters, if Elizabeth was to be believed – and they could endanger the entire resistance.

When she blinked, she saw Arden on the backs of her eyelids. She saw body after body after body. She saw her sister again. Octavia clenched her fists. She didn’t consider life lightly, no matter what some people might think. At the end of the day, she was just loyal. She was loyal to the resistance, and would prioritise it above any individual.

They had captured Elizabeta, and degraded her while she was their prisoner. Not badly, no, not so badly as other criminals were known to do. She shut her eyes, shaking slightly.

She could see his face, the criminal who looked like Matthew. There was a strong chance that they were somehow related, if not brothers (she understood that Matthew had had one). It was why she hadn’t alerted the captain to the fact that the rest of the band had showed up. The idea of seeing the boy’s heartbroken face tore her resolve half to shreds. But Matthew understood what had happened at Arden – he had _been_ there, for saints’ sake.

Perhaps, given time, he would be able to forgive her.

She lifted her head, facing Dalisay, nodding briefly.

“Tonight. Do it late tonight. Not here. Take them out…out into the forest, and give them proper burials, please. They deserve that, at the very least.”

The Lysi woman blinked, but straightened, offering a short salute as she briskly walked away. Octavia didn’t miss the deeply troubled look on the woman’s face, nor the shocked silence which had descended onto Ehsan and Aelia.

She had held this position only for a few days, and she already felt like every part of her was being strained far beyond it’s limits. It was no surprise that Yao was the way that he was. But, there was one thing that many of the rebels were right about – she was no Yao.

Octavia sank down into her chair, put her head into her hands, and cried.

* * *

Kristian just about leapt out of his skin when Ayshe came careening into their small tent, yelling in alarm and sending a duffel bag flying in her haste.

It didn’t take them long to assemble everyone. It took even less time for Ayshe to explain that Octavia had chosen to execute the prisoners tonight, rather than in a week like they had originally believed.

“Shit, shit, shit! This is bad.” Romeo said, wringing his hands and looking antsy. “We planned everything for tomorrow! We worked our entire plan around guard shifts for the 27th! How the hell are we supposed to save them now?”

There was a moment of loud talking, before Matthew held up his hands. Miraculously, everyone quietened down. He was frowning, but Kristian could see the faraway look in his eyes which indicated that he was planning something.

“We’ll do it tonight.” He said simply, as though the mere concept didn’t pose a huge number of risks. “We will get them all out of that prison tonight, and we will hide them. None of them, nor any of us, are going to die, you hear me?”

There was total silence, before Nelia spoke up. “How are we supposed to do this?”

“We don’t have a solid plan, it’s true, but we can still do this.” He said firmly. “I know that we can. We’ll have to do a bit of improvising, but if we’re careful, I think it could still work.”

He ignored their continued protests, brow scrunching up. Kristian stared, feeling dismay surge up inside him. He wanted to help these prisoners. Vlad had visited them with Lukas, at one point, and from what his boyfriend said, they didn’t seem to be legitimately bad people. they had certainly done bad things in the past, but they didn’t seem to be evil at heart.

Kristian bit his lip, about to protest, on the (very reasonable) grounds that it was simply too dangerous, when Lukas spoke up.

“Guys, I know this is going to be incredibly dangerous. Of course it is. It was going to be dangerous already. Isn’t that what every day of our lives is like, though? We’re all here, we’re all a part of the resistance, because we want to fight for people’s freedom. By doing this, we might not be liberating an entire planet, but we will save the lives of seventeen people who don’t deserve to die. We have to do this. **We can do it**.” Lukas’ voice had an odd, almost ringing quality to it, but Kristian felt his words imbue hope inside him nonetheless. The Fynknian was right – they _could_ do it, and they would.

Everyone else was nodding in agreement as well. Kristian noted that Vlad, though he was obviously in agreement as well, was frowning slightly at Lukas. Kristian felt unease creep up on him. He had seen that look on Vlad before. It wasn’t an angry expression. If anything, he looked now how he looked whenever he disapproved of something. Kristian had seen every expression to cross Vlad’s face, but this one was less common. Vlad tended to be light-hearted and hard-working, and was more likely to join in on some prank or plot than he was to get the perpetrator in trouble. It was unnerving to see him like this.

As they all dispersed, with Matthew furiously revising the plan with Elizabeta, Ayshe and Ali, he could see Vlad talking to the young Fynknian. He was tempted to walk a little faster, to catch whatever it was that they were saying, but stopped himself. Vlad was perfectly within his rights to talk to Lukas. And why wouldn’t he? The guy was talented at demo, far more than Kristian could ever dream to be, not to mention that he was smart, witty, and attractive to boot.

Kristian stopped in his tracks. _Dear god, I’m getting jealous of Lukas_ , he thought. He knew, objectively, that Vlad wouldn’t ever betray him like that, but after what had happened recently, with Ismeta, maybe Vlad had gotten it into his head – justifiably – that Kristian just wasn’t worth the effort? Not to mention, Vlad had been oddly interested in the 18-year-old recently, asking Kristian and everyone else all sorts of questions about the guy.

Irritation clawed its way up his throat, and he found himself clenching his fists. He normally wasn’t the jealous type – it was an ugly quality, as his mother had always said – but the two were walking rather close together. They looked like they didn’t want to be overheard.

Kristian’s eyes strayed towards his watch. He and Vlad had planned to go and spend a bit of time together in the woods near the shooting range. But he had a class coming up, and even though he and Vlad probably could have still stolen away for 20 minutes without being missed, he supposed that it wouldn’t hurt to be punctual for once. Besides, the conversation between Vlad and Lukas was getting a little heated, and he had no intentions to get caught up in it.

He turned on his heel and left.

* * *

“All I’m saying is that it’s manipulative to use your abilities like that.” Vlad said, frowning.

“That’s the point, Popescu.” Lukas retorted, rolling his eyes. “I want this mission to go ahead, and no-one seemed ready to agree.”

“Still, though, shouldn’t you use them for something more important?” Vlad asked, starting to sound exasperated. “I thought they were supposed to be sacred or something like that.”

Lukas snorted. “Maybe they were sacred a few millennia ago, sure. They’re respected now, definitely, but…” he sighed, “it’s hereditary, Popescu. It’s a psychotic fluke of a gene with murky origins. Maybe it was sacred among the earliest of my ancestors, but now people recognise it for what it is, mostly – a gene. It manifests itself stronger or weaker seemingly at random.”

Vlad frowned, and Lukas sighed again. “Everyone was still determined to free those prisoners. They just needed a bit of encouragement.” Vlad shook his head.

“You’re still a manipulative prick.” He said. Lukas shrugged.

“I never claimed to not be.” he responded simply. Vlad grinned a little at that. It was nice, in a way, to have more people knowing about him and Emilia. Vlad had confronted him, to tell him that he had worked it out, only a few days earlier. He’d seemed a little awed, but had quickly gotten used to the idea. Unfortunately, his sudden interest in Lukas had not gone unnoticed. Speaking of…

“Your boyfriend’s angry at you, by the way.” Lukas said. It hadn’t been hard to detect the confusion, anger and hurt radiating off Kristian in the last few days. It had been especially potent just now, however. Vlad frowned, pivoting on the spot. His boyfriend had already wandered off.

“Shit.” He groaned. “Really?” he ran his hands through his golden-brown hair. “Yeah, that’s my fault. He’s probably already gone off to the class he’s teaching.”

Lukas raised an eyebrow. “Well fair enough, then. Were you going to keep him away or something?” judging by the intense shade of red which overcame the other man’s face, he had indeed been intending to do something along those lines. Lukas rolled his eyes, and clapped Vlad on the shoulder. “Good luck wooing him back.” Vlad scoffed, but quickly set off in the direction which Kristian had likely gone.

No doubt, Lukas would be able to tell how well Vlad had succeeded by dinner tonight. If he failed, they would likely both appear quiet and be giving each other the cold shoulder. If he was successful, Lukas doubted that he would see them at dinner at all. He smiled at the thought, albeit a little sadly. The two of them were sweet, really, and it was obvious that they genuinely loved each other. He had made more than one comment about being invited to their wedding. They mostly blushed and scoffed at the suggestions, but he knew it was more likely than not to happen one day.

Having been on the run for so long, and living such a dangerous life, Lukas had never been with anyone romantically. In the places where they’d stayed a little longer, some people, both boys and girls, had expressed some interest. But given their situation, he had never been able to do much more than mentally entertain the possibility. The only time when he’d come so much as close to a semi-real relationship had been when he was about 14. He and Emilia had been staying at a homeless shelter on Incanda. He’d met a pair of twins there; Amin and Kana. Both of them had been dark-skinned, dark haired and endlessly witty. He’d enjoyed spending time with both. Amin and he had gone about exploring the city, talking about the burdens of having to be older brothers (though Amin only counted as the older sibling by about 4 minutes), and taking care of their younger sisters. He and Kana had talked about books and travel and the most bizarre of their dreams.

He had liked and gotten along well with both of them. Things had become a little more awkward when an argument had started between the two of them. It had been a few months by the time he realised that the argument had been about _him_. He had positively floundered in that situation, because he found that, as both of them liked _him_ , he also liked _both_ of them. In the end, it had been Amin whose determination had won out over that of his sister’s, and Lukas had shared his first kiss with him. He’d always still been enraptured by Kana as well, though. But that was as close as he’d ever gotten to a boyfriend or girlfriend. He would never bother denying that there was a part of him that wanted one desperately. Lukas knew that he was selective, even verging on demisexual – he had only started to be attracted to either Amin or Kana after a few months of knowing them, though he’d also had experiences of immediately being attracted to people – but that didn’t mean that he thought no-one was worthy of him.

He was relieved that no-one seemed to think he was completely undateable. Kristian had thought that he was dating Kari for weeks before he dismissed that rumour. Kari was a sister to him. Admittedly, she was incredibly strong and intelligent, not to mention that she was so kind and supportive of him. It was also true, as Vlad had pointed out, that she was very beautiful. But he wasn’t dating her.

That wasn’t to say that he _wouldn’t_ , though. He flushed at the thought. He did recall having quite the crush on her when he was little. Perhaps it hadn’t entirely dispersed, as he’d initially thought. Lukas spared no thoughts for the age difference between them, either. Yes, she was five years his senior, but he had never believed that age (unless it was reaching into paedophilia territory) should be a barrier to love. He paused, slapping his flaming cheeks. Why was he even thinking about this? Lukas sighed. It wasn’t even that he had strong romantic feelings for Kari. He had just been feeling his loneliness a bit more recently, especially given that he spent so much time around Kristian and Vlad, who endeavoured to demonstrate their love via disgusting public displays of affection.

He pulled his jacket closer around him. The sun was sinking beneath the horizon already. His eyes widened. He’d stupidly been musing for what must have been close to an hour now. Matthew had told them to all be ready at all times to start freeing the prisoners, and he had been walking about, thinking like an idiot.

Lukas hurried off towards his tent. He didn’t have the time to be stressing over stuff like this. He had a real job to do.


	32. An Execution in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again! I'm a little late for this one, primarily because of how busy I've been lately, but I can promise that the worst of my workload is over, so I should have far more updates in the coming weeks for you guys. I'm trying to get this finished before my life gets hectic again.
> 
> RECAP:   
> \- The planned execution date for the bounty hunters + pirates has been moved forward. They remain unaware of both the plot to kill them, and the plot to rescue them.  
> \- We saw some of Roderich's past. (Wink wink nudge nudge, keep that flashback in mind for this chapter)  
> \- Lukas used his powers to convince the others to try and save the prisoners, to Vlad's chagrin. 
> 
> Okay, I don't want to come off as rude, but I would really appreciate it if you guys comment and tell me what you think. Go ahead and think that I'm spoiled or annoying or whatever, but I spend hours and hours writing and editing this, and it only takes a few minutes (at most) to leave a comment. So please tell me what you guys think!

_Public Cell Block, Resistance Headqarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma  
26th Maarch

_2303 hours_

Francis sighed, twisting so that his arm was pinned underneath him at an even more uncomfortable angle. One of the rebels who Feliks and the others said were good had come around earlier, right after the dinner rounds. She hadn’t spoken much, just poked her fingers through the bars and murmured. “Don’t sleep.”

He wouldn’t have taken it seriously, if not for the sharp tone in her voice, and the dark shadows in her eyes. The others had dismissed it as some sort of odd threat, but Francis had been unnerved. She had said it less like a command and more like a plea. Like she really wanted them to not sleep tonight. Perhaps it was just cruelty on her part, or perhaps it had another meaning to it.

In any case, Francis knew that he was likely the only one still awake. Vash might also still be up, if only because he was the dictionary definition of an insomniac. The others had all lapsed into sleep, though. Francis was the only person who seemed to think that her warning was legitimate. It was hard to force himself to stay awake, though. The whole area was much quieter than usual, and there was a gentle wind which was causing a low, soothing whistle as it went through the hall outside their cell. It wasn’t so cold as it had been last night, and they’d been given better mattresses just earlier today, and the increased level of comfort was making him want to lie down and just relax.

Growling a little under his breath, he rummaged through the meagre belongings that he had kept on his person, before he pulled the small sachet out of his pocket. It exuded a strong perfume that very nearly made him gag. Hamide Boushab’s face momentarily swam in front of his eyes, and he turned his eyes down. He was awake now, and he doubted he’d sleep at all.

* * *

_27 th Maarch  
0056 hours_

Francis swore that even the normal conversation which could be heard very late at night had ceased. The area around them felt dead, deserted. A shiver went up his spine.

_Don’t sleep_

This felt wrong, so very, very wrong.

That rebel had told them not to fall asleep tonight, and she’d meant it. He shook Gilbert a little, but the albino barely stirred, and he withdrew his hand, heart pounding. He could be wrong, but there was something off here. Something wasn’t being said.

* * *

_0112 hours_

Francis gave in to his concerns, and shook Arthur awake. The pirate had been sleeping fitfully anyway, and barely needed to be touched before he had dragged himself up into a sitting position, murmuring inquiries.

Francis didn’t feel as stupid telling Arthur that he felt something was wrong as he should have. When he fell silent, he knew that the blond was listening out for the sounds that they could normally hear at this time of night. Arthur clearly noted the silence.

“That isn’t normal.” He said quietly, voice raspy and worn. Francis nodded, though knew that Arthur wouldn’t see it.

“That’s what I thought.” He said grimly.

They sat in silence.

* * *

_0139 hours_

There was something moving outside, he could tell. Arthur’s back had gone ramrod straight, similar to Francis’ own. There were people, just outside, walking around and murmuring to each other.

Arthur was shaking, though Francis knew it was due less to the people outside than it was due to the rapidly encroaching cold of the night. He saw, aided by a slice of moonlight coming through their barred window, Arthur pull the lumpy beanie given to him by his brother Colin over his head. Francis silently passed him a blanket.

Without doubt, Arthur was tired, nauseous and freezing, but he didn’t lie back down to sleep again.

The pair sat together, silent sentinels, both fearful, for hours.

* * *

_0241 hours_

It took three and a half hours for Francis to be proven right.

He had been slumped against the wall, body relaxed but mind sharp and awake, when footsteps reached his ears again. There were a lot more of them, and they sounded fast, urgent.

Forgoing his doubts, Francis immediately took to shoving and shaking everyone awake. Arthur aided him, though the slowness and weakness of Arthur’s movements meant that Francis did most of the work. They were all awake, whispering to one another fearfully and looking around in confusion, when the masked man arrived at the barred door.

They all went still, staring and waiting as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. The shape of what Francis guessed was a rifle was slung over his shoulder. He jerked his head roughly.

“Follow us.”

They were all tired and unarmed, and in their bewilderment, obeyed as they were first escorted from the cell and handcuffed. Another masked figure slipped into the cell past them, looking like they were cleaning it, or something similar. Francis only realised how dangerous that their obedience was when they were being ushered out of the prison block, and pushed towards the back of a tarp-covered truck. They climbed in slowly, falteringly, and sat along hard wooden benches as the van started to move.

For such a large vehicle, it moved remarkably quietly. They were all silent. He could see that Mei still had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looked more confused than afraid, and had her head tucked into Arthur’s shoulder as she murmured sleepily. Leon looked equally exhausted, though he had neglected to bring anything warm with him, and looked just as ready to use the captain as a pillow.

Gilbert prodded at his elbow, and he turned to face him. “What’s going on?” he murmured. Francis shrugged, before responding.

“I have no idea.” He admitted.

The people transporting them weren’t talking to each other at all. They were all wearing masks and long robes to keep themselves concealed. Each of them, as Francis had spotted, was also holding a high-calibre rifle. The truck bounced a little, and Francis winced as he heard Arthur retching. Judging by the soft murmuring which followed it, Alfred was sitting nearby. He heard disgruntled muttering from Leon, but silence fell among them all when the guard in the back with them barked for them to be quiet.

The truck continued to bounce and jerk around as they drove. Gradually, they slowed down, and the path they drove along seemed to get more and more windy. Judging by the shaking of the truck, they were in the forest, driving over the huge tree roots. They still couldn’t see anything. The night had reached its darkest and most desolate.

Suddenly, the van slammed to a stop. They all let out noises of surprise as they were slammed into each other, though, as Francis noted with annoyance, their guard remained standing. There was a moment of total silence as they all straightened up on their seats again, before muffled voices sounded from outside. They weren’t speaking Common, and when he strained his ears, Francis thought that he heard the rolling notes of High Nymian. As their voices grew louder, he saw Vash go completely still.

Nausea seized his stomach, but he hardly had any time to process what could possibly be happening before they were being shoved out of the van by their guard. They all landed haphazardly on top of each other, but no sooner than they had stood up again, were they being shoved forwards again. Francis stumbled, but managed to stay upright this time.

There were about six robed, masked rebels in front of them.

Francis was about to ask what in the system was going on, when one of them unslung their rifle from their back, quickly loading it. One of the other rebels picked up a bag, opened it, and pulled out dark hoods, which they quickly started to pull down over the faces of his friends.

Fear enveloped everything. This was an execution. The rebel with the hoods was moving up the line, and finally reached him. He tried to jerk away, shaking his head.

“No, no, please don’t.” He said, not caring that tears were starting to spill down his cheeks. The hood was pulled over his head anyway. The last thing he saw was one of the rebels nodding at another.

The hood was stifling. The darkness of the material meant that he couldn’t see anything out of it. The thickness of the material meant that he felt like he was suffocating.

He heard voices from outside. Everyone must have been given a hood. The noise of a rifle being cocked met his ears, and Francis felt bile rise in the back of his throat. A single word caught his attention.

“Nesset.”

It wasn’t a Nymian word, as far as he knew. But it’s meaning eluded him, and any thought of it fled his head, because just after he heard it, a gunshot broke the night’s heavy silence.

One gunshot, followed by the heavy, tell-tale thud of a body hitting the ground. His entire body froze, preparing for the next gunshot, and the next noise which would indicate that another one of his friends was dead.

But none followed.

* * *

For all the stress which had been involved, it had been almost criminally easy when it came down to it.

Dalisay Mendoza’s team of combat snipers had been assigned the mission of executing the seventeen prisoners locked in their cell block. Dalisay supported Octavia, but she was an inherently good person. The first idea for their plan would not work.

Matthew had expected that it would be complex, death-defying, even. All it had taken was the offer to do a shift in the kitchen, and hand food servings to five of the six members of Dalisay’s crew, Dalisay herself included. All that he’d had to do was lace their food gently with a sleeping agent which acted on a certain time limit. All it had taken was for them to extricate the prone bodies of their sleeping peers and place them in their beds, and make it appear like they had overslept.

After that, all that had to be done was for Matthew, Elizabeta, Tino, Vlad and Ines to take the clothes of Dalisay’s crew, pull them on, and use voice modifiers to convince the last member of Dalisay’s team that they were in fact his friends.

It hurt a little, having to shoot Nesset. He wasn’t a bad guy, not at all, but he was one of Octavia’s more extreme supporters – the Vice General herself was uncomfortable with how invested he had been in the idea of killing the seventeen prisoners.

All Matthew had to do was call Nesset’s name to get his attention, and direct his gun away from the prisoners, towards the other man’s face, and pull the trigger. One of the prisoners, who had been standing the closest to Nesset, flinched away and gasped in shock when she felt blood and gore splatter itself across her chest. There was a beat of total silence as Matthew lowered his gun, broken only by Nesset’s body hitting the ground. Though the girl behind Nesset seemed to be putting two and two together, none of the other prisoners seemed to understand what was going on.

Matthew slung his gun back over his shoulder, marched towards the line, and started to pull the prisoners away, shoving them back towards the truck. Elizabeta and Tino followed his lead, quickly ushering them back inside. They didn’t bother to see if they were seated; Ines threw herself into the driver’s seat and slammed her foot onto the accelerator. Matthew had to sprint a few metres and jump up onto the back, grabbing a hold of the side to drag himself onboard. Ines was a fairly good driver, but she was obviously throwing caution to the wind as she drove. She turned wildly and hurtled along the forest floor. It was lucky for them that the roots of the trees made it impossible for vehicles to leave tracks. Otherwise, the route of their escape would have been all too obvious.

Matthew tightened his grip on the side of the truck. He felt positively wretched, leaving Nesset’s body back there, but they had no choice. They didn’t have the time to bury him.

He was brought back to reality by Ines slamming on the brakes, similar to how she had done on their way to the clearing. He hopped down, looking around. It was still dark, but it had been over an hour since they had taken them from the cells, and the sky looked like it was fractionally lighter. Matthew cursed. These prisoners needed to be secured, under guard, and they all needed to be back in bed in less than two hours.

He almost threw the back of the truck open, pulling the prisoners out carelessly. Vlad, who had made his way back around, started to pull them to their feet and shove them towards the abandoned shipping container concealed between the trees. Elizabeta immediately lent her help to Vlad, as Matthew and Tino scrambled towards it. The door was thrown open as they approached it by Kristian, who looked immensely relieved. Lukas, also dressed in dark robes and a mask, was with him. Matthew nodded at him. Good. His task had been to plant evidence of gunpowder in the cell, to make it appear that one of them had retained a gun – which would explain Nesset’s death. They had originally planned to have Lukas plant false memories in the minds of Dalisay and her crew after they had rescued the prisoners, but had deemed the process too time-consuming and risky.

He knew that they would be among her top suspects, but that was where their best chance of getting off scot-free lay. They had a ‘meeting’ with Ayshe scheduled for 5am. Though there was almost no way that they would actually make it on time, she would be there to assure Octavia that they had all been brutally punctual. The Vice-Admiral had been creating false notes for the ‘meeting’ for several hours yesterday. They would all have undeniable alibis, and since the bullet from Matthew’s stolen gun was the same as that from the gun which had ‘accidentally’ been dropped at the site of Nesset’s body, there was no evidence of any other interference from them specifically. The suspicious lack of witnesses, and the unusual lie-in experienced by Dalisay’s crew would attract attention, but Matthew hoped that there were no loose ends to be traced back to them. Even Nesset’s death could be explained away, as he had been stationed near the prison that night as a guard. It was easy enough to assume that he’d seen their escape and followed them in pursuit. Lukas had planted evidence of that around the cell block, as well.

All in all, Matthew and his friends were spinning quite the mystery for Octavia to solve.

The prisoners began to be escorted inside, and Matthew quickly surveyed the room. There were no external windows, though there was a skylight installed, and Kristian had kitted out one side of the room with sleeping bags and blankets for their prisoners, though, Matthew noted, there were also numerous locks and chains on the outside of the container. They couldn’t risk them escaping. They wanted them alive, certainly, but Octavia wasn’t wrong about the danger that they posed to the resistance.

The large group was quickly shoved down into one corner of the container, and Tino moved between them, removing their handcuffs, and finally, their hoods, keeping one hand on his rifle as he stepped away. Matthew found him immediately.

Elizabeta wasn’t wrong. The resemblance between the two of them was downright jarring. Alfred’s face looked much the same as his own, though there were a few notable differences. Though Alfred looked like he might be marginally taller, Matthew’s frame was leaner and lither than his younger brother’s. Matthew’s hair was also vastly lighter than his – light blond to Alfred’s golden brown – and his own violet eyes were not reflected in his brother’s face, replaced instead by eyes in a shade of deep blue. His brother also had much shorter fingers. Matthew almost envied him. He had been told about how his fingers were those of ‘a high-grade pianist’ for years.

Their skin looked roughly the same shade, though Alfred’s looked just slightly more tanned than his own. Then there were differences not brought about by genetics. Alfred’s hair was short, whereas Matthew kept his own rather long. Alfred’s nails were bitten down, while Matthew kept his long (all the better for scratching potential attackers). The mirror-image was further wrecked, as Matthew bore a vicious scar which twisted along his collarbone and surged up into the skin of his neck. Alfred was unblemished.

A small thrill went through him when he saw that Alfred wore glasses. Clearly, bad eyesight was another genetic trait they shared.

He just stood there, staring at him for a moment, before he looked away. He needed to focus. All seventeen of them had their eyes fixed on him and Tino, looking fearful and extremely confused. Finally, one of them, with long blond hair and blue eyes, managed to ask.

“What’s happening?” he didn’t ask loudly, but they all heard him. Matthew and Tino were silent, but were spared from having to answer by Elizabeta, who marched in behind them and pulled her mask from her face. Relief flooded through the faces of Gilbert, Feliks, Tori and Roderich, and they all seemed to relax. Elizabeta grinned.

“We just saved you. That’s what happened.” She said simply, sitting down in one of a few assorted chairs scattered around the room. “The current administration decided that you had all become redundant, and ordered for you to be executed. As semi-decent human beings, we objected to that, hijacked the execution team and saved all of your asses. So,” she leant back, folding her arms, “what do you say?”

Gilbert didn’t hesitate. “Thank you.” He said, sounding a little awed. She smiled softly, nodding at him.

“You’re welcome.” She responded. “Now, for safety reasons, we have to keep you guys in here for the foreseeable future, but we can promise that _we_ aren’t about to go and shoot you.” They all nodded, with all but a few looking very relieved. One of them, however, frowned.

“But if all of us are okay…who got shot?” Elizabeta’s grin faded away. She averted her gaze, and it somehow found Matthew. Her expression shifted to the side of his (still-masked) face, whitening a little. The attention of their prisoners was also drawn towards him. He tensed his shoulders when he reached towards the side of his face. His hand came away red and slick. Of course, he was still covered in Nesset’s blood. The girl who had also been coated in it looked down at her dirty shirt in horror.

“We did what we had to do.” Elizabeta said firmly as she turned to face them again. “Right now, we also need you guys to do what we need you to do. It’s pretty simple, so don’t worry about forgetting. First of all, you are not permitted to leave this place, ever, unless one of us is with you. You need to be quiet, and not draw any unnecessary attention either to yourselves or this place. I don’t care if you have some unsolved agreements, you’ll all just have to shut up and cooperate while you’re still in here, got it?” they all nodded, looking uneasy. Matthew’s brother spoke up.

“What will happen if we disobey?” he asked. There was a stubborn tilt in his jaw, and Matthew groaned internally. He could already tell that Alfred would be a handful. Elizabeta shrugged.

“You’ll probably be found, robbed of any and all money you have access to, executed by soldiers and have your bodies dumped in a ditch.” She said casually. Alfred’s face paled a little, but he kept his composure and nodded calmly. Matthew didn’t stick around to hear the rest of whatever Elizabeta started to say next. He turned and exited the container, checking his watch. They were actually on time. Perfect. Tino followed him out. Lukas was peering inside curiously, and drew away a little when Matthew approached.

“Sorry.” The young royal murmured. “He looks so much like you.” Matthew cast a last glance towards his younger brother.

“Tell me about it.” He muttered. They stepped outside and began to close up all the locks. Elizabeta had volunteered to take the first shift guarding them. Ali would arrive later today to take over. They all hastened to remove their dark robes and masks, as well as throw away the gun which Matthew had used to shoot Nesset. Noting the time again, they quickly moved away, ready to start the trek through the forest back to headquarters.

* * *

By the work of some saint or another, they all made it back in time. Nesset’s blood hadn’t seeped onto Matthew’s actual face, so all he had to do was slip into some new clothes, and feign energetics to conceal his exhaustion. He, Tino, Kari, Ines, Ali and Nelia all managed to show up for their ‘meeting’ with Ayshe, and passed the one and a half hours that they had allotted for it by power-napping. Ayshe made sure that no-one disturbed them and noticed that they weren’t actually doing any sort of work. Matthew groaned and complained when it was over. He hadn’t slept properly since before the rest of the criminals had shown up.

He ran his hand through his hair. He would have to take up a guard shift at one point or another, and he couldn’t very well wear a mask. A part of him didn’t want to talk to Alfred at all, but the logical part of his brain knew that if he didn’t, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

It was hard to even think about. But he wouldn’t try to get out of a guard shift just because of it. They had already realised that Tino couldn’t be a guard since they would likely recognise his face from his wanted posters. Matthew, perhaps for the first time ever, cursed Tino’s aptitude with guns. He pushed the thoughts of his brother out of his mind. He was going to have to use every little acting skill that he had ever had in the next few days, starting today.

He bid farewell to the others and strolled from the tent. It was finally breakfast time, and he was keen to end the gnawing hunger in his stomach.

* * *

He found Lukas half-slumped over one of the tables in the dining hall, scrawling in a notebook. Matthew raised an eyebrow as he sat next to him. The younger teen barely acknowledged his presence, frowning down at his messy writing. Matthew sighed, before reaching out and waving a hand in front of Lukas’ face. The Fynknian rolled his eyes, but looked at him.

“Good job planting that evidence. Ayshe said that you did a good job.” Lukas nodded a little.

“Yeah, thanks.” he murmured, still frowning at his notes. Matthew glanced at them curiously as he started on the fruit he’d taken from the breakfast stand.

“What is that?” he asked. Lukas sighed, sliding it over the table. It was a list of names, some of which had been crossed out or circled. Almost illegible notes had been scrawled in the margins, and Matthew raised an eyebrow when he flicked back through the previous pages, taking note of the pages and pages, which all contained similar lists. He handed it back to Lukas as the other boy started to explain.

“They’re the names of people we have under review. We’re trying to eliminate them like you said.” Matthew winced a little, hoping that his orders hadn’t been keeping Lukas up at night.

“Anyone standing out yet?” he inquired. Lukas sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“Not really. We aren’t looking at the whole resistance, only people stationed here, and only people who have a rank of Lieutenant and above. Anyone ranked lower wouldn’t be able to access the sort of information which this spy has been giving out. But…we haven’t found much yet. Even with me and Emilia helping, I’m yet to find anyone with less innocent intentions.” He sighed, looking at the paper with an expression caught between frustration and despondence.

Matthew smiled sympathetically.

“We’ll catch them, don’t you worry.” He assured him. “I know that we have what it takes.” Lukas sighed.

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that we’ll be able to catch them. My worry is that we won’t be able to catch them before Yao’s trial.” Matthew sighed.

“Yeah, I’m starting to think that that isn’t an achievable goal either.” He cast his eyes downwards. “What we need to do is start thinking smarter. Just going through names won’t help. We need to look for specific characteristics and attributes which could help us identify our spy. We need to start analysing their methods and using them to catch this person.” Lukas nodded.

“True.” He said, closing his notebook and tucking it into his jacket pocket. “I’ll look into it later. Too tired right now.” Matthew chuckled, casting his gaze around as Lukas started to swipe pieces of fruit from his bowl. He could hardly argue with that. There was some sort of commotion over near the door, and he could see Octavia talking frantically with Vice-General Gabras. Clearly, the absence of the prisoners had been duly noted. He turned away, nudging Lukas slightly with his foot. The Fynknian must have read his thoughts or noticed Octavia’s distress, because he sat up, forcing his eyes open. He was a remarkably good actor, Matthew would give him that. He wouldn’t have guessed that the teen was completely exhausted just from looking at him.

Matthew could feel eyes on his back. Shoving the last of his breakfast towards Lukas, he stood and walked from the dining tent.

* * *

Antonio reclined against the wall. Their previous guard, Elizabeta, had been replaced with a young Syhvvanian about an hour ago. The kid couldn’t possibly have been older than 17, but none of them were keen to fight him, mostly due to the fact that he had an automatic rifle on his lap and about five knives strapped to his belt. His name was Romeo, if Antonio’s ears were serving him correctly. Romeo was just as talkative as Elizabeta had been, asking them questions about Reycass, how they’d managed to get themselves captured, and what being a bounty hunter was like. He was incessantly curious, though in more of an endearing rather than irritating way. Some of the others had caved in and answered his questions with the bare basics of detail and hardly any specifics.

Antonio was glad for Romeo’s childish blabber, though. Their entire group had been enveloped in a tense, uncomfortable silence when Elizabeta had left. Alfred was still angry at them all – he was angry at Feliks and Gilbert for claiming that his long-lost brother was a rebel fighter, angry at Arthur for backing them up, and angry at Matthias for telling him to calm down a little. The pirates looked supremely confused the entire time, and Antonio envied them. Alfred’s brother was a very contentious topic of conversation with Alfred, and it always had been.

Antonio could hardly even imagine the pain that Alfred felt over losing his brother, but even Antonio’s patience and forgiving nature was getting pulled tight. He would have thought that Alfred would be delighted to think that his brother was alive and well. Apparently not. Antonio himself had never had a sibling, though he’d often wanted for one. But he had never complained directly to his parents. It had been hard enough for them to have him, much less give him a younger sibling as well. He sighed. It had been months since he’d gotten to go home to Jhobras and talk to them. He missed it a lot, though he did genuinely like spending time on Reycass and being with his friends.

He was pulled from his reverie by yelling to his right. He groaned. Alfred was yelling at Feliks and Gilbert again. Romeo seemed unbothered by their arguing, though Antonio did notice that he was brushing his fingers across the trigger of his gun. Sighing, Antonio turned to try and break up the fight, setting eyes on the cursing trio just as Alfred decided to swing a fist at Gilbert’s face. Unfortunately, the albino was already backed against the wall, and didn’t really have anywhere to turn to avoid it. Alfred’s hit caught him hard in the jaw and he yelped in pain, cradling it with his hands. It had split his lip open, and Antonio could see blood already flowing down his chin. Arthur, who was right behind Gilbert, dragged himself halfway to his feet and tried to haul Alfred’s flailing hands away. Alfred just lashed out at him too. Arthur was a little faster than Gilbert, however, and the only thing that Alfred’s flailing managed to do was knock his wool beanie on his head.

Berwald, choosing for once to actually get involved, lunged forwards and pinned Alfred’s arms behind his back painfully. The tall man was glowering silently, not budging an inch as Alfred struggled to free his arms.

“Calm down. We haven’t done anything.” He said slowly. Alfred struggled for a few more moments, glaring at Berwald.

“They keep lying about my fucking brother!”

“And, for the last fucking time, you stupid shit-head, we aren’t lying!” Gilbert roared back at him, wincing. His entire jaw was smeared with blood, and it was already starting to darken and swell. Their guard, who had his gun propped up and ready to fire now, blinked at them.

“Are you guys talking about Matt?” he asked curiously. He observed Alfred. “I mean, I thought that you two looked crazy alike, but I didn’t want to butt in.” Alfred glared at him.

“Why is everyone here so committed to lying to me?” he growled. Romeo raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know if you’ve realised this, but I’ve never met you before. What possible reason would I have to lie to you?” as Alfred moved to gesture to Feliks, Gilbert, Tori and Roderich, Romeo shook his head. “I’ve never met them before, either. I don’t care if you believe me or not, but trust me when I say that they aren’t lying. Matt looks, like, almost identical to you.” He squinted at Alfred. “Maybe a little taller…and paler.” He cocked his head to the side. “No, I think you might be taller, actually.” He shrugged. “In any case, you need to calm down. If you guys make noise like that again, I’ll shoot you.” Antonio stiffened. He had almost forgotten the strict out-of-sight-out-of-mind approach which the rebels were trying to enforce here. _Their_ job was to stay as quiet and still as possible. Romeo sat back again, shifting his grip on his gun without removing his finger from the trigger. His gaze slid over all of them, before it paused on Arthur, and he raised an eyebrow.

“That’s an odd colouring job.” He commented airily. Antonio glanced the pirate’s way. Upon hearing Romeo’s comment, he’d quickly retrieved his wool cap from behind him and pulled it down over his hair. Antonio and Roderich, as the two sitting closest to him, however, caught a glimpse. Antonio raised an eyebrow as well. It was probably just dust or dirt, considering the amount of travel that they’d done. Roderich, though… Roderich looked beyond mortified. Antonio honestly cast a look around for the bucket Arthur had been given, because the pirate looked like he was about to be sick. He rolled his eyes a little. It was a bit of an over-reaction in his eyes.

The others, having failed to catch a glimpse, shrugged and went back to their own conversations. Antonio cast one glance at the pirate captain, who seemed to be trying to have a conversation with Roderich based entirely in stares and facial expressions. Maybe Roderich had something against hair dye? Antonio couldn’t blame him that much. Grey was an odd choice.


	33. No Reason to Give In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again! Thank goodness that Writer's Block is only temporary, eh??  
> Anyway, let's jump right back into it!
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- The prisoners have been saved by the rebels, who are keeping them in an abandoned shipping container in the forest  
> \- The date for Yao's trial is quickly approaching (the 29th), and tension is rising in the camp, especially among supporters of Yao's. The hunt for the real spy is ongoing.  
> \- Arthur is still very sick, and his hair has started to turn grey (for unknown reasons, winkwink nudgenudge)
> 
> NAMES (In case anyone forgot):  
> Ayshe Kartal: Ottoman Empire  
> Ali Ghafoor: Afghanistan  
> Cera Bannion: Celtic Empire/Ancient Celts  
> Gonzorig Khar: Mongol Empire  
> Romeo Bianchi: Seborga
> 
> Also, there are a few mentions of torture and some other dubious elements in this chapter, just be warned! And thank you to everyone who commented last chapter! Your encouragement makes for an effective cure for the dreaded Writer's Block! ;)

_An abandoned shipping container,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,  
27 th Maarch

It…was an indescribably hard thing to think about. It always had been.

For years, it had been a subject of taboo in his family. Their grandmother had died of it, and to so much as speak the disease’s name was to bring sorrow to the eyes of their mother. So, they obeyed their father, and never asked anything about the last three months of their grandmother’s life.

They never spoke about how she hadn’t been the only one, and how, without fail, one person per generation seemed to be struck down. Their mother had luckily avoided it, though her older brother was diagnosed when he was in his mid-forties. After he died, they refused to talk about him, too.

He loved his mother, but she made it so hard to talk about. And she wasn’t the only one. No casual conversation with an acquaintance could easily broach the subject of Chalydrantis. Mentioning it was always followed by a sad sigh or a despondent nod, and a thoroughly uncomfortable, depressing conversation.

As such, growing up in rural Pyndaph, it had been less of a disease than it had been a vicious, unrelenting phantom. A fear unrelated to the disease itself had manifested itself in every member of his family.

That was why he found it so hard to admit to anyone.

He had been living on Xexei, near the slaver district, when he had noticed the intense headaches, nausea and dizziness which had started to haunt his very steps. He’d been a poor, idealistic teen of 18, who’d made his living in a small convenience store on a rundown corner. He could hardly afford to keep the mildew-crusted lights on, much less afford a doctor’s appointment. It had taken over five weeks of living even more frugally for him to be able to afford a single appointment. Luckily, Xeir doctors were increasingly efficient. All he’d had to do was explain the issues he’d been having, let them take a blood sample and do a scan of his head, where most of the problems lay, and was sent off only an hour later.

He’d been called back in the next day, where the friendly doctor had greeted him with a grave expression on her face. She’d asked him, quietly, what he knew about the disease known as Chalydrantis. It hadn’t taken him more than a second to understand.

Arthur had cried for hours after that.

In addition to being royally fucked over, his particular branch of Chalydrantis was the deadliest type known. The disease typically manifested into physical growths, and from there released toxins into the body. He had been unfortunate enough to have the growths manifest in his brain, which meant that he had about half the time left to live that any other patient would have.

He had only ever admitted what he was suffering from to Colin, who had been understanding and thoughtful ever since. He had wondered if he should just let the disease run it’s course. But Arthur hadn’t been ready to die, so he’d turned to piracy to afford the treatment. It was ridiculously priced – 10,000 marks per injection. He had put his inner elbows through hell over the years, given the number of times those needles had pierced his skin. He wasn’t surprised that Francis now thought he was a drug addict.

The whole affair with Roderich’s mother had scared him more than he would ever admit. He’d realised his mistake in following his colleague the minute that he’d spotted the sign on the door to the ward, but he’d found himself following the other man inside anyway. The sight of them all suffering had very nearly ejected his stomach out of his mouth. The sight of their grey hair, nails adorned with dark smudges, frames rail-thin…

He had fled the ward as quickly as he could, and just barely made it to an alleyway before throwing up. He’d wandered around, but, lost in his confusion, had just walked back to wait outside the hospital. Roderich had seen him, and they’d passed the night in silence, both pretending that they weren’t on the brink of tears.

Arthur had managed to keep it fairly subtle over the years. He went through certain periods where his condition was worse than normal, and he’d needed to buy additional doses to keep himself functioning normally. He’d realised that he was headed into another bad period right after they’d run into the bounty hunters on the anchorage. But from there, they’d ended up shuttling themselves around the universe, on the hunt for their friends. His supply had dried up, and was finally completely gone. It had taken only a week off for his hair to start transitioning into the grey colour which indicated that the toxins were reaching a lethal level. He doubted that he would last another fortnight. But…he wasn’t as scared as he should have been. The past few weeks, though chaotic and bizarre, had been fun to experience (minus him getting his finger ripped off, that is). Despite the fact that he was locked in an old shipping container, tired, and hungry, he didn’t feel any discomfort.

He was just tired of being so scared all the time.

* * *

Ayshe was silent as she watched Octavia curse and file through the security footage from the night before. They didn’t have any cameras around the cell block which the criminals had ‘escaped’ from, mostly due to a combination of age, and the fact that it was normally well-guarded anyway. The cameras nearest to the cell block were too far away to give the frustrated Daernic woman any solid information on where they could have gone. Ayshe was almost disturbed by how well their plan had gone. She had expected some sort of complication to come up, but it had gone off without a hitch. It was a pleasant surprise.

Octavia had tears of frustration and worry in her eyes, and Ayshe felt guilt course through her. Octavia was a good person, and was only trying to do what she thought was right for the resistance. Ayshe couldn’t fault her logic, whether it was in choosing to investigate Yao, or in how she had intended for the prisoners to be disposed of. She enjoyed being the other woman’s friend, and hoped that finding the real spy would finally put all of the drama to rest.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll excuse myself.” Ayshe said, interrupting Octavia’s profanity-strewn muttering. Octavia barely looked up, nodding.

“Yes, of course,” Octavia said, sounding more than a little distracted, “if you don’t mind me asking, where?” Ayshe turned. The Daernic woman was watching her, green and gold eyes piercing her. She had already lied to Octavia enough today.

“I was going to visit Yao.” Ayshe said honestly. “If I am permitted to do so, that is.” Octavia blinked, before seeming to realise that Ayshe was asking for permission. She nodded.

“Of course.” She said, turning back to the monitor. Ayshe sighed in relief a little, before pivoting and marching from the tent. Octavia was still ruled by sense. Clearly, if she saw no harm in Ayshe visiting Yao, she still did not think that she was involved in the prisoners’ disappearance.

Ayshe crossed the hot, sandy common area as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself. The last thing she wanted was to get side-tracked by some young recruit wanting to fawn over her. She was always flattered by the attention she received, but had never really thought that she deserved it. Operation Parasite had been almost 8 years ago, and yet people still nearly tripped over themselves to congratulate her on the success that it had been. It scared her, to think about what would have happened if the events of that night had played out just a little bit differently. She likely wouldn’t be alive, and who knew where the resistance would have gone without Yao?

The memory of their first meeting swam before her eyes.

* * *

Onboard the SS Arbiter,  
Orbiting Yan,  
2nd Septombre, 4504CC

_Ayshe cursed as she hurtled around the corner, praying to any god or saint that would listen that her shoes didn’t squeak on the frighteningly pristine floors. To make the slightest sound now would be to concede to capture. Her heart was pounding, so hard that it felt like it was trying to leave a dent in her ribcage. Her lungs ached as she struggled for air while maintaining her speed._

_It was early, extremely so. This ship was one of the most secure in the entire Universe, so there weren’t even guards wandering the corridors. When you had cells which bore three high-strength locks each, and a sophisticated system of trackers embedded into your prisoners, there was no need to keep people on hand to watch them. She slowed down as much as she could without her shoes making a noise on the floors, peering around the corner again. Her paranoia was sending her stomach rolling and pitching like a ship in a storm. Realistically, it was highly unlikely that anyone would be in these corridors tonight save for her and her friends, but she was careful to still exercise caution. Any wrong step, and the four of them would end up being the newest playthings of the sadistic interrogators._

_Ayshe took a moment to catch her breath as she moved down the hallway. Though there was technically no real ‘night’ when they were onboard this ship, they followed the average day on Yan. Right now, it was ‘night’, so all of the lights on the ship had been dimmed down to essentially nothing. She let her hand trail along the wall to guide her. According to the small watch which Tanlin had given to her, it was about their equivalent of 2:00am. Their timeframe roughly followed that of the Tua-Zhan Province, which was small but densely populated. Ayshe bit her lip. Their wakeup call came at roughly 6:00am. They didn’t have very long._

_She switched her small communicator back on as she darted down to the small files room which Ali had commandeered. He glanced up as she entered, hand halfway to his Union-issue revolver before he realised that it was her._

_“What’s our status?” she murmured as she kneeled over a little to look at the screens which he was peering at. Ali sighed, running a hand over his head. He’d shaved it to match the standard, clean-cut look of most of the other workers on this ship. It had annoyed the man greatly, as he’d had quite an impressive beard growing before then._

_“Cera and Gonzorig have collected about 30 prisoners.” He murmured in response. “They’re mostly those from the low-security cells, or those which we deemed to be particularly important.”_

_Ayshe bit her lip. There were about 50 prisoners on the Arbiter as a whole. The Union didn’t store nearly as many prisoners on board as they had initially believed. Though, of course, this ship was only for the prisoners that they wanted to ruin beyond repair. To liberate 30 of them was an incredible feat. But guilt over those that they wouldn’t be able to help plagued her. Ali’s hand flew to his communicator. He frowned for a moment._

_“Make that 36.” He corrected, a smile overtaking his features. “Cera says that we should start loading them onto the bridge soon. If we hesitate much longer, our chance of getting caught becomes exponentially higher.” He said. Ayshe nodded, before gesturing to the monitor._

_“So, what’s the purpose of this?” she inquired. Ali leaned forward as a box appeared on the screen, squinting before muttering a curse and tapping at the keyboard once again._

_“This is a direct link to their major database.” He said, nodding to the screen. “We can get all of their info about their interrogation techniques from here, not to mention any information that they have weaselled out of the prisoners.” He said. “It’ll be invaluable.” Ali continued to flick through several windows on the screen, before he came across a screen with a series of names listed, seemingly in some sort of order. Ali leaned forward even further, grinning maniacally._

_“Score!” he whispered in excitement. “It’s their list of their current prisoners.” He explained, when he saw the perplexed look on her face. Ayshe nodded, gaze roving over the details on the screen, before she noticed something, and leaned forward, jabbing a finger at it._

_“Look there. Execution date.” She drew her finger away, feeling nauseous as Ali examined the column._

_“It seems to be the dates that they’ve set for their executions, at least right now.” He murmured. He tapped at it a few times, and scrolled down, frowning. He paused, then tapped Ayshe’s arm to get her attention._

_“Ay, look at this.” He pointed out one name. Ayshe glanced at it. The execution column, unlike all of the others, did not bear a date. Instead, a small line of text read ‘undeserved’. Her stomach turned over. She had heard rumours before starting this mission, about the prisoners who received the dreaded ‘undeserved’ tag on their profile. This prisoner wouldn’t be executed. Rather, if the rumours were to be believed, they were to stay on the Arbiter indefinitely, suffering more torture and pain purely for the fact that they had held out against all odds. Her eyes swept left, toward the column which held what the guards called ‘common tags’. The column, rather than the prisoner’s names, held the cruel, degrading or often bizarre nicknames which the guards gave them. It served to dehumanise them even more._

_Her blood ran cold when she saw the tag on the prisoner. It was written in Yanish, a language which she had very basic knowledge on. But she recognised the characters, primarily due to the fact that Wuhan had drawn them out for her when explaining this particular prisoner. They called him Bù chén – ‘unsinkable’. Wuhan complained about him constantly. He was well-known around the Arbiter – mostly as a prisoner who had never given up a single one of the secrets which his torturers had sought out. Ayshe’s hands were shaking as she pushed Ali’s hands out of the way and pressed on the profile. Her mouth fell open a little, and she heard Ali draw in a surprised breath as a picture of the man showed up._

_“By the saints…” Ali whispered, turning to her with confusion in his eyes, “Bù chén? He’s Yanish?” they stared at each other for a moment, before a look of horror crossed Ali’s face, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. “Oh god. Oh no.” Ayshe stared at him in alarm._

_“What? What is it?” Ali met her gaze again, looking distraught._

_“There was a Union defector who worked for Arshad for ages. He disappeared a few months before Arden happened. Everyone blamed him for it, called him a spy. Even Arshad seemed to have given in and believed it.” Ayshe stared at the screen. She had heard the story as well._

_“So, this is Blackbird, then?” she asked. Ali nodded._

_“It would have to be,” he said, “there’s no other explanation as to why a Yanish citizen would be on the Arbiter as a prisoner.” Ayshe nodded, staring at the photo. He didn’t look very old at all – perhaps a few years older than her. A shudder passed through her._

_“We need to get him out.” She said firmly, already taking note of his cell-number. Ali seized her arm as she moved to go past him._

_“Ay, think this through. We’re pushing it as is-” she whirled around._

_“Ali, if we don’t get him out, he’ll be tortured to death. They don’t intend on giving him any sort of mercy.” She jabbed at the screen as she spoke to emphasize her point. “He’s held out for a_ year _, Ali, an entire year! He’s done more to serve the resistance than half the people in our infantry! I’m saving him if I can.”_

_“There’s a very small chance that his physical condition would improve once we get off, if it’s as bad as I’m thinking it would be.”_

_“That might be true, but if it is, don’t you agree that he at least deserves to die with dignity? Die at peace with no-one hurting him?” Ali stared at her, hesitating, before his grip loosened, and he let go._

_“Hurry. We don’t have long.”_

* * *

_Ayshe had sprinted down the halls, uncaring if her shoes made noise. They were pushing it. They should have been gone half an hour ago. Ali had told Cera and Gonzorig about what she was doing, and though Gonzorig had cursed at her, Cera had wished her luck and speed, as had a prisoner who had heard that the infamous Unsinkable was the one that they were trying to free._

_She sighed with relief when the doors to the 2 nd ward came into view. These weren’t very widely used, and were much more isolated than the cells in the 1st ward. Then again, perhaps that was their intention, to drive _Bù chén _as mad as they could. She gritted her teeth as she darted inside, nose immediately wrinkling up. The pristine floors did not reflect what must go on in here, because the entire place stank of rancid meat and blood. Breathing in through her mouth to stop her eyes from watering, she ventured forward, glancing at the numbers on the cell doors. Realising how far into the ward they must be keeping the poor man, she sped up._

_Ayshe couldn’t stop herself from gagging when she turned a corner. Evidently, no-one had gotten around to mopping up around here. The floor was deeply stained, with stretches of brown and crimson visible. That wasn’t half as disturbing, in her eyes, as the small dashes of white which she also saw staining the carpet. Forcing down the bile which had surged up her throat, she kept walking, checking the numbers on the doors as she passed. Finally, her eyes landed on number 17. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and peered inside._

_She couldn’t keep her tears at bay this time, when she caught sight of the crumpled figure on the floor. A sob tore itself free, and her hands flew to her mouth, gaping in horror. Her entire body shook as she opened the three locks and swung the door open. The idea that a person could do this to someone else nearly made her sick. She moved slowly, cautiously, towards the crumpled figure. His skin was grey in tone, and she blanched. Oh saints, he wasn’t dead, was he? Considering what he had experienced, it would likely be a sweet release._

_She shifted his long hair away, wincing when she noted the colour. In his picture, it had been pure, obsidian black. Now, however, it was shot through with white. Forcing herself to focus, Ayshe gently probed his neck with her fingers, sighing in relief when she felt a faint pulse hammering away underneath. She drew away, just barely suppressing her gasp when she saw that his eyes were open. They were the colour of dark coffee, and, even bloodshot and dull as they were, Ayshe found them beautiful. They stared blankly for a moment, before they shifted downward, to the guard uniform that she was still wearing._

_She expected an adverse reaction, but the man just seemed to slump, eyes going even duller. Ayshe could almost see him ‘going away’ mentally, so she shook her head frantically at him, wiping her eyes with the edges of her sleeves._

_“I’m not a guard.” She whispered to him. “I’m part of the resistance.” He was still staring at her blankly. She hesitated for a moment, before leaning forward and sliding her arms underneath his, and pulling his torso toward her. He stirred a little, eyes clouding with confusion and fear as she pulled him upright. He was frighteningly light – she barely broke a sweat pulling him up with her. Ayshe quickly looped his arms over her shoulders when she noted him swaying._

_“We’re getting out of here, okay?” she murmured to him, gently pulling his hair away from his face. His expression was slack, and still bore signs of fear, but he didn’t seem to be in danger of screaming or trying to fight her, so she counted that as a success. She walked slowly, even though they really didn’t have the time to spare. She didn’t want to risk hurting him more than he had already been hurt here._

_It was only when they were well out of the ward that she started to quicken her footsteps a little. Ali was right that they didn’t have much time, and she couldn’t bear the idea of getting caught now, not after they’d been through so much to get here._ Bù chén _seemed to understand that she was hurrying, and also sped up his footsteps as much as he could. It almost made her weep._

_It seemed borderline unreal, when she finally found herself outside the escape pods. He was almost completely slumped over her – even the small effort of walking down a few hallways had exhausted him – and his breath rattled in her ear. Ali caught her eye, grinning when he saw the man she was holding up. Behind him, she could see the other prisoners – all scarred and emaciated – already waiting inside the ship. Several of them stood, peering at_ _Bù chén_ _with recognition in their faces. She hurried forward as Cera rushed to help her escort the emaciated man inside. She heard what sounded like a low whisper from the prisoner, and raised her head inquiringly. His eyes were distant and clouded, but she heard his next words clearly._

_“Thank you.”_

* * *

Ayshe roused herself from the memory as she noted that she had arrived at Yao’s cell. The guards looked at her quickly, before stepping aside with a certain degree of reluctance. She eyed them for a moment.

“I would request a few minutes alone with General Yao, if you will.” She said sharply. The pair exchanged a look, before one of them bowed her head.

“As you wish, Admiral Kartal.” She said, though her flinty gaze indicated otherwise. Ayshe watched them as the two marched from their place, noting the unhappy expressions on both of their faces. She waited until she was sure that they were far enough away that they wouldn’t be within earshot before she walked into the small cell block. It was almost ridiculously humid inside, and she felt herself immediately start to sweat. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for Yao in here, given the long clothes that he favoured.

Relief washed over her when she saw him. He looked tired and worn, but healthy. True to her expectations, a fine sheen of sweat coated his brow, and he was glaring absently at the wall. She grinned as she approached, unnoticed.

“I must say, you’re looking a little worse for wear, Yao.” He turned his head slightly, eyes widening when he saw her. He almost leapt to his feet, grinning widely.

“Ayshe! When did you get back?” he laughed, eyes sparkling. She reached through the bars to grip his hands as a substitute for a hug, as he seemed to almost drink in the sight of her. It had been long, far too long, since they’d seen each other in person.

“Only a few days ago,” she said, “I’ll admit, hearing that you’d been thrown in prison wasn’t what I wanted to hear upon arriving back.” Yao smiled sheepishly.

“Ah, yes, there’s that,” he chuckled, still keeping his gaze rapt on her face, “Believe me, I wasn’t planning on it.” Ayshe laughed.

“I didn’t think that was the case.” She said warmly. She sunk down to the floor, Yao joining her, and sat cross-legged in front of the bars. She pressed her fingers against the dark metal and shook her head slightly. It had been years since he’d been behind bars like these. She had hoped, after that first time, that she would never have to see him behind them again. He must have deduced what she was thinking from her facial expressions, because he reached through the bars and took her hand again.

“Hey. I’m managing alright.” He said, smiling without strain. “It hasn’t been too bad in here. They feed me regularly, though showering seems to be off limits for now.”

Ayshe giggled at that, leaning away and screwing up her nose over-dramatically. Yao grinned at her, and she felt some of the tension slip from her shoulders. It really didn’t seem to be getting to him that much, for which she was grateful. If she noted even the slightest sign of discomfort, she would likely try to lynch his guards. Yao’s gaze was still affixed on her face. she flicked him lightly with her finger.

“What are you staring at me for? Don’t tell me you’d forgotten what I looked like.” She teased. Yao smiled again.

“I don’t think I’d ever be able to forget.” He said gently. He chuckled softly, finally breaking eye contact. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in over a week, is all.”

Ayshe was grateful for the darkness of her skin – if she had been much lighter, she no doubt would be blushing scarlet right now – but she collected herself enough to teasingly retort, “In over a week? And here I was thinking that I’d be one of the most beautiful things you’d ever see.”

Yao was looking at her again. “You are, no doubt about that.”

Okay, no matter how dark her skin was, Ayshe knew that her blush was visible now. They lapsed into a comfortable silence while she tried to school her thoughts. Yao had always been charming, and always fast to compliment her on her intelligence, strategic thinking and humour. Compliments on her looks came less often – likely due to the fact that Yao prioritised a person’s physical appearance far below factors like intelligence and courage – but were always as sincerely meant. He was one of the few that could compliment her in such a way and not get a shrewd look.

“My trial is on the 29th.” He said after a few moments of silence. Ayshe nodded.

“I’d heard that, yes.” She responded quietly, her grip on his hand tightening momentarily. He smiled sadly at her.

“I’ve been told that I’m allowed to call a few people in particular to help with my defence.” He said softly. “I’m going to have to talk about the Arbiter. I was wondering…would you mind being a witness for my side of the case? You’re one of only a few that can verify that I was ever on that forsaken ship, so…” he trailed off, but Ayshe was already nodding vigorously.

“Of course I will, Yao. You know that I’m always on your side.”

He relaxed exponentially, bowing his head and placing his forehead on her hand. It was a sign of deep respect on Yan, though it was far more commonly used on Misor. She blinked, then laughed softly.

“You don’t need to bow to me, Yao.” She said, voice warm as she covered his hands with her own. “I’m here, always. And this trial will go fine. We’ll find the real traitor, that, I can promise you.” He smiled at her, expression so kind and open that she felt her stomach flutter. Looking away so as to preserve some semblance of her composure, she asked,

“Who else were you planning on asking? To be witnesses for your side, that is.”

Yao considered a moment. “I was going to ask Elizabeta and Kari, and I also considered Matthew and Tino, but…” he trailed off for a moment. “Well, the side arguing against me will have very respected officials on it. Octavia and Batbayaryn, to be sure, and Aelia, Jamael and Ehsan are likely to also offer up testimony.” He sighed. “Their opinions may be more well-regarded than those of ‘mere captains’ like Elizabeta and Matthew.”

“Hey,” she said, squeezing his hand, “you also have a well-respected Admiral on your side, don’t forget.” Ayshe gestured to herself. Yao laughed.

“That’s true.” He admitted.

“Not to mention,” she spoke up again, “though Ines and Ali have already been called up as ‘neutral’ witnesses, they both like you more than Octavia, so that’s something.” Yao nodded again, looking thoughtful. Ayshe bit her lip. “What about Mohammed? He’s sensible.”

Yao laughed, a little bitterly this time. “Yes, he is. He’s an excellent leader, and very well regarded around here, too.” Yao looked down. “But I doubt that he’d be so partial to me. We get along well enough now, but they’ll be asking questions about things that happened years ago, and his opinion of me hasn’t always been so glowing.”

Ayshe frowned. “How so?”

Yao winced. “It’s irrelevant.” Ayshe’s glower deepened.

“If it’s going to come up at your trial, it _is_ relevant, Yao.” He stared at her a moment, and sighed,

“He didn’t trust me much when I first joined the resistance under Arshad’s tutelage, that’s all. Most people didn’t. He’ll just have to talk about why he didn’t trust me, and things like that.”

“Well why didn’t he trust you?” she pressed. Yao winced further.

“You’ll hear it at my trial, Ayshe. Surely you want something to remain a surprise?” she glared at him, no humour in her expression.

“If I might ask, would his disagreement with you have any association with where you came from?”

“Well, a few of his choice words come to mind.” Yao admitted.

“Such as?”

Yao was silent for over a minute before he responded. “Well, it was _‘euyun mayila’_ and _‘niqabat’_ in Low Nymian, and _‘catlaka’_ in High Nymian. They were the most common, anyway.”

Ayshe was still for a moment, before she moved to stand. Yao reached out and seized her wrist. “Where are you going?”

“I just need to murder Mohammed Hassan. It shouldn’t take long.” She said. Ayshe wasn’t even bothered by the audible shaking in her voice. Anger had surged up inside her and taken hold of her thoughts. Indignation and disgust raced through her bloodstream. The ‘well-respected’ and ‘considerate’ Mohammed Hassan said those sorts of things?

Yao’s grip on her wrist tightened. “Ayshe, it was years ago. It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter!” she cried, voice cracking. “Of course it matters!” but at his words, she paused, and let Yao gently pull her back down to the floor with him. There were tears budding in her eyes, but she ignored them. She distantly realised that she was shaking. Nymian was one of her native languages, and she understood both the High and Low dialects. Unlike most other planets, the ‘high’ and ‘low’ tags depended, quite literally, on the altitude of the area. Mountainous regions filled with highly-educated, honourable old tribes used High Nymian, while poorer plateau and desert inhabitants used Low Nymian. She had heard those three terms before, and asked her father what they meant. All she really remembered of the encounter was the sheer disgust in his expression as he told her to never repeat them, ever.

Yao’s hand was on her back, rubbing gently. “They’re just words.” He said firmly.

“Racial fucking slurs.” She choked out, wiping at her tears.

“I know. And I’ve heard much worse ones, let me tell you that.” He smiled softly. “We’ve put it behind us, as should you.” She looked at him indignantly.

“Put it behind me? Yao, if someone called me something like that, there’d be nothing left of them. Mohammed doesn’t deserve any less.” Yao chuckled a little.

“He’s apologised over and over, if that helps.” Ayshe grumbled, crossing her arms. She shook her head a little, but sighed, knowing that Yao wouldn’t want her to lash out at the General, especially not for things which he had said years ago. She turned her head back towards him a little.

“Well, what would you do if someone said things like that to me, then apologised over and over?”

Yao watched her a moment, expression measured. “I’d wipe all traces of them from the earth, regardless of their apology. But this is different. I’m not worth that, Ayshe.” She scoffed, folding her arms tighter. But that was Yao, she supposed. He would go to great lengths for his friends, but seemed to inexplicably think that he wasn’t worth the same effort. Personally, Ayshe thought that Hassan still deserved to be wiped from the earth, but she wasn’t going to fight Yao on the matter. She sighed.

“As you wish.” She said sullenly. “But if I hear anything similar from him, regardless of who it’s directed at, I’ll shoot him. Fair enough?” Yao shook his head, laughing a little.

“I know that there’s little I can do to deter you if such a situation arises.” He said, eyes sparkling. “Though I would hope that you’d exercise more caution than that.”

Ayshe made a simple ‘pssht’ noise and waved her hand dismissively, drawing a laugh from Yao. She relaxed against the bars a little more, though the smile dropped from her face when she saw the two guards approaching from outside. Groaning, she turned back to him.

“It seems that the extent of my influence has been met.” She sighed. “I’d best get going before they have to drag me away kicking and screaming.” Yao smiled, though it was distinctly sadder now than it had been before.

“Though I do wish I could steal away more of your time, I wouldn’t punish the rest of the resistance by depriving them of your radiant presence for so long.” He sighed. Ayshe grinned, and dragged Yao’s face closer to the bars, slotting her own face partially through so that she could kiss him on the cheek.

“I’ll see you on the 29th.” She said. “We’ll prove Octavia wrong, I swear.” Yao smiled.

“I hope, for my sake, at least, that that is true.”


	34. Everything That Hasn't Been Said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeyyyyyyyyyyoooooo!!! It's-a me!  
> Okay, i hope that you all enjoy drama, because this chapter is full of it.
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- The bounty hunters have been successfully rescued, and are in an abandoned container out in the desert for now. Alfred still refuses to believe that his brother is alive.  
> \- Arthur has Chalydrantis, and is starting to die.  
> \- Ayshe has promised to testify in Yao's defence during his trial, which is fast approaching.
> 
> WARNINGS: Some violence and swearing I think.
> 
> Anyway, please comment to tell me what you think, and enjoy!

_An abandoned shipping container,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma  
Late at night, 27 th Maarch

Their situation only took a moment to change from mildly unsavoury to terrible and strange.

Their stay as of so far had passed easily enough. After Alfred’s fight with Gilbert, Romeo had forced the pair to opposite ends of the container they were trapped in, and enforced a set distance between the two. Feliks had wisely chosen to follow Gilbert to his corner, given that Alfred was angry at him, too. Arthur had scowled at everyone and slumped back against the wall, seemingly avoiding making conversation with Roderich, who looked like he was trying to instigate one. Leon and Mei had huddled near Arthur, while Natalya and Yael had struck up a conversation with Tori.

The others ended up started their own quiet conversations, while Vash himself had resumed his previous engagement of glaring at everyone lazily. He sighed. This was hardly what he had expected when he’d accepted this job. Clearly, the whole drama happening at the moment in the resistance was further reaching than he’d thought. A major figure could cause this sort of turmoil, but this was their headquarters, not an outpost…

No, it had to be their leader who was involved in something major. Perhaps they had died, and some sort of leadership quarrel was happening now? Vash shook his head. Trying to psychoanalyse rebels was a pointless task. Their motivations were almost completely lost on him. He would admit, since meeting Lovino and Feliciano, he had come to understand the reasoning behind their cause more. Those two deserved to have their planet back, and Vash resented that it had been taken from them in such a way. He didn’t consider himself sympathetic enough to actually aid the rebels in any way, but he understood their reasoning, in a detached sort of way.

He frowned as his thoughts turned back to Lovino and Feliciano. It had been over 10 days since he’d last seen them, and though he knew, objectively, that that was a small amount of time, he felt something akin to anxiety rise within him when he imagined the two of them alone back in Bibesti, susceptible to any sort of threat. Lovino was no weakling – he had killed before and could kill again – but Feliciano was a different story. For someone who had lived a life of such poverty and hardship, the boy was exceptionally light-hearted and compassionate. He was endearing in every sense of the word. Though Vash couldn’t quite relate to him on the level that he could to his bitter, more violent older brother, he still liked him. But Feliciano was no fighter, though Vash suspected that Lovino had shown him a few techniques. He shook his head. He should be worrying about himself, not his neighbours over in another system.

He tried several times, without success, to divert his thoughts from the two brothers by himself, and decided to seek out a distraction. Luckily, Vash found himself seated next to the noisiest of the bounty hunters by far. Upon realising this, he quickly engaged Matthias in conversation. It started as a few cursory questions about his injuries, but the bounty hunter quickly launched into a fascinating story about a run-in which he’d previously had with law enforcement, a plumber and some very angry lawyers on Rityl. It was far more entertaining than Vash let on, and he almost had to physically restrain himself from laughing at a few points. The tall blonde had just finished his story when the Syhvvanian rebel Romeo stood and slung his gun over his back.

“Alright, I’m done for the night. Now, your conditions will be a little different overnight, which is what I have to explain.” The young teen sighed, obviously annoyed by this. “Now, you guys aren’t actually going to have a guard from about 11pm to 6am. This is due to the simple reason that we actually do need to sleep. We realise that sometimes, shit goes wrong, so, if you guys need serious help or anything similar,” he held up a small signaller, “you guys use this. Just press the middle button three times, and one of us will come and help you out. It’s not to be used unless it’s an actual emergency, got it? We don’t have the time to be running to and from here constantly.” Romeo set the small device on the table, eyeing them all suspiciously. “Remember, you guys need to stay as quiet as possible, or it’s your heads on the line.” Without another word, he scooped up a small rucksack which he had brought with him, and disappeared out the door, unfortunately remembering to padlock it before he went.

Almost the minute that their guard was gone, Natalya was plotting.

“This is almost too easy,” she said smugly as she turned the small signaller over in her hands, “All we have to do is call them here, overpower them and leave.” Though Yael nodded at the idea, and Alfred also looked keen to escape the container, Francis rolled his eyes.

“Oh yes, we’d be free! We’d be defenceless, and without food, water, clothes, money and transport while in the middle of a _desert_ , but yes, we’d be free to go!” he looked at Natalya. “Be realistic. They know this terrain better than us. There’s only so far that one can travel on foot, and they have vehicles _and_ weapons.” Natalya huffed, but placed the signaller back on the table and slumped against the wall again.

“Francis makes a good point.” Vash added. “The rebels are far better organised and trained than the Union ever risks giving them credit for. I don’t think they’d be so forgiving if we tried to escape after they risked their lives to stop our executions, also.” Francis nodded at Vash’s words, giving Natalya a look which said, _see? I’m in the right here._

“Unless you stole one of their weapons.” Berwald said quietly. They all looked at him in surprise; he wasn’t known for his valuable contributions to conversations.

Natalya nodded at him, while Antonio sighed and hauled one of the sleeping bags which they had been left towards himself.

“Well, you guys can plot as much as you like. I’m going to sleep, considering that we didn’t get much of it last night.” He shot them all one last grin before yanking his blankets around himself. It didn’t take long for the others to all follow suit, though Vash was more hesitant – given the fact that the last time he’d slept on this planet, he’d nearly gotten shot in the face, he was slightly more wary to fall asleep than he had been before.

He ended up next to Francis, who moved over a little to give him more room, and begrudgingly snuggled down into the surprisingly comfortable blankets. Vash had expected that his instincts would keep him awake, but to no avail; he was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Francis’ first thought when he was shaken awake was that a) Vash had accidentally rolled onto him in his sleep, b) some sort of Nymian reptile had snuck into the container and was preparing to bite him, or c) Natalya had decided to go through with her plan to try and trick the rebels and escape.

It was none of the three.

Francis blinked blearily, wondering why he was being waken up at such a god-forsaken hour – and he knew that it was ridiculously early, given the fact that everything before him was pitch-black – when he realised that it hadn’t been intentional. He could feel someone clambering over the top of him, and a quick swipe to his right side indicated that it had been Vash. Groaning, he rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows.

“What’s going on?” he murmured sleepily, not quite managing to suppress a yawn. He could hear shuffling and whispering to his right, accompanied by the sound of low, laboured breaths. He frowned rubbing at his eyes as he forced himself into a sitting position. He could feel Antonio still sleeping, and he heard whispering coming from another direction.

“Does this mean that we’re going through with my plan after all, then?” it was Natalya. He felt her crouch down next to him. “Why are the others awake?” he inquired. He shrugged, then, realising that she was as blind as him in this darkness, responded.

“I’m not sure,” he whispered back. He raised his voice a little. “What’s going on?”

“Something’s up with Arthur.” A voice called out of him. Antonio.

Francis frowned “What do you mean?”

“His breathing is a bit uneven, is all. I don’t think that there’s anything seriously wrong with him, though.”

Francis could almost hear Natalya’s grin. “In that case, we have an excuse for calling them here, don’t we?” he heard someone sigh. Natalya, having not heard any objections to her idea, fumbled around before she obviously found the small signaller. He heard three small beeps and knew that she’d called them there.

“All we have to do now is wait.” She said.

* * *

“I don’t trust it.” Matthew glanced over at Tino, who was glaring at the small signal receiver as though it had personally wronged him. “What could have possibly happened in only 4 hours? It’s more likely that they’re trying to escape, if we’re realistic.”

Matthew couldn’t argue with that logic. “That does seem most likely.” He conceded. “But there’s also the chance that something has happened.” Tino sighed.

“You’re going to go and check on them, aren’t you?” Matthew smiled at him, shrugging.

“What can I say, you know me too well.” Tino was grinning.

“Well if I can’t stop you, I might as well join you.” Matthew smiled at his friend, grateful to have the company.

“If you’re headed over there, I might as well come too.” They both turned, looking at a weary Lukas in surprise. The young Fynknian shrugged. “I’m slotted in for the first watch of the day anyway. Might as well stay.” Matthew hesitated a moment, but nodded, looking between the two of them.

“Okay, a party of three it is.”

He gave them both about five minutes to change into actual clothes (since they’d all been in pyjamas) and grab a few other things. He chuckled a little when he saw Lukas grabbing a few apples and stowing them in the pockets of his oversized jacket. Tino had already pulled his mask over his face. He jerked his head towards the small trunk where Matthew’s was also hidden.

“Not wearing the mask, then?”

Matthew stiffened slightly. He had thought about it, but the idea of hiding his face even more was just exhausting. He knew that the middle of the night was hardly the best time to spring the news that he was still alive on his younger brother, but he had no patience for melodrama, and their family situation quickly seemed to be building up to that. He shook his head. Tino shrugged, but didn’t question it, and followed him and Lukas out as they headed into the woods.

* * *

By the time footsteps became audible outside the container, everyone else had been woken up. Roderich, Mei and Leon, upon hearing that Arthur was sick again, had rushed over towards him, though Roderich seemed far more concerned than the two younger teens, which puzzled Francis a little. As far as he was aware, Arthur had known Roderich longer, but the kids seemed to be a lot closer to him. He had merely shrugged it off, as Natalya took advantage of their very limited time to try and work out some semblance of a plan.

They didn’t have much, admittedly. The only idea that they really had was to overpower whoever came, steal whatever they had of use on their person, and run for it. They would figure out the rest later. Natalya had said that it was better that they were free than continually trapped by the rebels. Francis couldn’t exactly argue the fact that their stay, so far, had not been very pleasant. Yes, they’d been reunited with their friends at long last, but they had also been borderline starved, almost been executed, and shuttled around in captivity like cattle.

Francis wasn’t very keen on the idea of fighting the rebels. He had heard a lot about their prowess in combat, and didn’t exactly want a repeat of what had happened when their friends had been kidnapped. Surprisingly, Feliks, Gilbert, Tori and Roderich, the four who arguably had the biggest reason to resent the rebels, given their long captivity, were all adamantly against the idea.

“They aren’t bad people!” Gilbert had argued earlier. “They didn’t have to risk anything for us, but they executed one of their own to keep us alive. Not to mention everything they did to save our lives when they were getting us here!”

“They were only keeping you guys safe so that we’d pay your ransom.” Alfred had argued. “They aren’t doing any of this for us, they’re doing it because they’ve been _ordered_ to do it.”

Gilbert had shaken his head, looking furious.

“Well I’m not going to fight them.” He had said sharply. Alfred had rolled his eyes, but hadn’t argued. Feliks and Tori had similarly reluctant, as had Roderich. Francis sighed. They weren’t exactly going to force them too, though it was frustrating that they were declining to even try.

The sound of shuffling and footsteps from outside became audible, and Francis tensed. Everyone else seemed to go still as well as the chains jangled and were pulled away from the outside of the doors. Finally, there was a loud creaking noise as the door swung open, and a slice of moonlight pierced the darkness. The sound of the footsteps became louder as someone moved inside.

“You called. What is it?” a rebel’s voice, oddly familiar, met his ears. Antonio spoke up.

“Our friend is sick.” The rebel didn’t move towards them.

“Sick how?” they asked. Francis could identify the voice as male, but there was something else about it which made his head spin with confusion. He had heard that voice, and recently, too. He tried to force the thoughts away. What did it matter? He should be easy enough to overpower.

“His breathing’s all uneven, and he’s been ill the past few days as well.” Antonio elaborated. Francis felt a chill run over him, as a _very_ familiar voice met his ears.

“One of them was pretty out of it when we brought them here, I’ll admit.” Francis cursed. The second voice belonged to the masked Lieutenant who had escorted them here with Colonel Jakolin. They had hoped that only one rebel would come to check on them. There was a moment of silence, before the first rebel spoke up again.

“Fine. Let me take a look at him.”

And that was when Francis recognised it. This rebel was the same one who had uttered that single word – “Nesset” – before shooting one of his own dead. His blood ran cold. This rebel had had no qualms about killing his own ally. It was unlikely that he would hesitate to kill a criminal that he didn’t know.

As if the situation couldn’t get worse, suddenly a third pair of footsteps, lighter than the first two, met their ears. Francis exchanged a worried look with Matthias in the near-darkness. Shit. There were three of them.

He forced his thoughts to remain more positive. Yes, there might be three highly trained and potentially deadly rebels inside their container, but there were seventeen of them – thirteen if he factored in that Gilbert, Tori, Feliks and Roderich didn’t plan on fighting them – surely, they could overpower them?

But one of them – or all – could easily be armed.

The first rebel had started to move towards Arthur, navigating very well despite the relative darkness. Francis saw his silhouette drop down as he knelt next to the pirate’s side. The rebel turned on some sort of small torch and shone it over Arthur, though the beam was directed in such a way that the rebel’s face was still out of sight. He looked over him for a moment, before Francis saw his frame stiffen.

“Shit.” The rebel cursed, fumbling for a bag he had slung over his shoulder.

“What is it?” Mei’s voice rang out, deep with concern. “What’s wrong with him?”

The rebel simply muttered a curse again and then braced his hands on Arthur’s torso, pulling him so that he was lying on his side, and tilted the pirate’s head upward a little. Mei repeated her question.

“There’s something affecting his breathing.” The rebel finally deigned to respond. Without further explanation, the rebel bowed his head a little closer to the pirate and, without warning, stuck his fingers down his throat. Arthur made an awful choking noise, and the rebel turned the blonde’s head to the side as he retched. He lowered his head back onto the floor, but his breathing was still off.

The rebel swore again. Mei was starting to look panicked.

“What is it now?” she asked.

“There’s nothing in his oesophagus, so that means that whatever is messing up his breathing is in his actual lungs, which is bad.”

Mei whimpered, and Francis saw Leon put a hand around her shoulder.

“But…you can fix it, right?”

“We’ll have to see…Lukas?” the rebel called out. The third pair of footsteps grew louder, as the last rebel entered the container. “I could use a little help here.” the first rebel said. Francis saw the rebel move past him and also kneel at Arthur’s side. He felt Matthias tap him gently on the arm.

“This seems a lot more serious than we initially thought.” Matthias whispered to him. “What do you think is wrong with Arthur?” Francis shrugged. Looking discomfited, Matthias leant away, frowning at the pirate’s slumped form on the floor. Even Francis had to admit that he was starting to get concerned. Arthur’s health had been dodgy at best the last few days.

The third rebel – Lukas – sucked in a breath. He had been gently probing Arthur’s chest with his fingers, but now he drew away.

“There’s fluid in his lungs.” Lukas said. “He’s essentially drowning on dry land.” The first rebel cursed again, and moved to find something by his side.

It was that moment that the others chose to strike. There was a sudden silence, as if everyone was holding their breath. Then, the container was alive with noise and shouting.

When they’d been captured and thrown in a cell alongside their friends, the rebels had done a cursory check for weapons, and removed any guns that they had. But they were criminals. Being criminals, they always made sure to have a back-up plan. In most of their cases, that ‘back-up plan’ was having a small but wickedly sharp knife slotted into the lining of their boots. Francis could guess from the figures he saw darting past him that Alfred, Natalya, Leon and Antonio were among those attacking the rebels. Francis heard noise behind him, and turned as the door slammed shut. The torch that the rebel had been holding was skittering around wildly on the floor as people struggled, throwing light randomly on people’s faces.

Francis turned as Berwald charged towards someone behind him, evidently attacking the Lieutenant who had been standing by the door.

Francis could hardly see a thing, but he could hear shouted curses and yelps of pain. One particularly loud cry of pain came from Alfred, and Francis spun, trying and failing to locate his obviously injured friend in the chaos. Seeing no other real option, he flattened himself and crawled underneath the table. If he couldn’t fight, he might as well get out of the way. but no sooner than he had slid under the wood, an awful, piercing shriek exploded to life inside his head. He clutched at his ears, but the sound was relentless, erasing every thought in his head.

It abruptly vanished, and he sat in shock, ears ringing. There was complete silence. He heard what might have been a voice, before the container was flooded with light. Evidently, someone had had the sense to turn on the lights. Shaking, he dragged himself out from underneath the table to survey the damage that had been done. He turned his head to the side and noticed a small pool of blood on the floor. He grimaced.

Everyone else seemed as taken aback as he did. The source of the noise – whatever it had been – didn’t seem to be immediately visible. He heard a groan to his right, and saw Matthias look in that direction. Francis was more shocked at how fast their leader blanched than he had been by the shrieking noise. Slowly, he turned, feeling shock wash over him as well.

Berwald had charged towards the door to take out the Lieutenant. It had been a wise decision, strategically speaking – Berwald was, excluding Ivan, the one with the most physical strength on their whole crew. The Lieutenant who had escorted them across the desert had been relatively small in stature – just taller than Leon – and rather slim. Berwald was probably about twice his size.

Yet Berwald was on the ground, with an assault rifle pointed at his face, while the small Lieutenant looked no worse for wear, mask still in place. Francis’ jaw dropped open. The rebel had, it seemed, easily overpowered their friend. The Lieutenant had his foot planted on Berwald’s face, pushing his shattered glasses into his face. Francis cold already see several cuts on the left side of the man’s face. The Lieutenant looked up at them.

“The ingratitude that you all have is appalling.” He spat, voice laced with fury. “Trying to attack us when we’re saving your friend? How typical.” The way he spat the last word made it sound like an awful insult, and Francis felt himself bristle a little. Matthias was glaring at the Lieutenant.

“You expect us to be grateful, when you’ve kept us locked up for days?” Matthias spat at him, scowling. The Lieutenant shifted the gun so that it was pointed at their leader.

“Don’t tempt me to shoot you.” The rebel scowled

Matthias extended his arms mockingly. “Go ahead and try it.”

“Matthias!” Feliks said, looking horrified.

“I’ve used those guns before,” Matthias said, nodding at the high-calibre assault rifle that the Lieutenant was holding, “The kickback on them is so strong that half the time the shooter doesn’t even hit their target.” The Lieutenant was still for a moment, before he started to laugh, lowering his gun a little.

“That’s true for _most_ shooters, yes,” he said, ”But I’m not _most_ _shooters_.”

Matthias sneered at him. “How so?”

The Lieutenant lowered his gun, letting go with one hand. He placed it on his hip, cocking his head to the side. Francis swore, despite the mask, that he could almost see the man smiling grimly. There was a beat of silence before the man responded.

“Well, you’ll find, bounty hunter,” he said as he reached up and pulled the mask from his face, “that I don’t miss.”

If Matthias had been pale before, he was almost ghost-like now. The Lieutenant grinned, aiming his gun at their leader again. “So, do you want to test me, or not?”

For once, Matthias seemed to actually suck up his pride, and shake his head. Francis couldn’t blame him. How many times had he seen that face, first in the Index, and then plastered over digital displays in the Krios District? He knew it well – after all, the Union only displayed the faces of their most wanted on those boards. When a new face appeared, people tended to take notice. He had to admit, it was quite something to see it in real life.

Tino Vainamoinen; by far one of the most infamous modern rebel fighters. Known for his immense and unforgiving prowess with a gun. He was a sniper – one of the most efficient the universe had ever seen. His bounty was, the last time Francis had checked, about 3 billion marks.

The Lieutenant – Tino – removed his foot from Berwald’s face, muttered a low ‘stay down’ to their friend, and moved towards the group. He knelt down right in front of Matthias.

“I don’t think any of you have properly gauged the situation. If you escape from here, you’ll die. If you get locked in here forever, you’ll die. If you try to fight us, you’ll die. It isn’t a hard concept to grasp.” He reached out and seized Matthias by the hair, dragging him forward so that their faces were very close together. “Your continued survival depends entirely on us. Trying to gut the people responsible for your life isn’t a good move.” He released their leader, then held out his hand. “Your knives, if you will.”

They all hesitated for a moment, before reluctantly handing over the few weapons that they had. Some of them had to scour the floor to locate them. As they did, one of the other rebels stood from behind the table. He was young, shockingly so, and obviously Fynknian. He looked relatively unharmed, save for a vicious cut across his hand which had left his fingers drenched in blood. Upon noticing this, Tino went still.

“So, you actually managed to land a few hits.” He said, voice soft and deadly.

“More than a few.” The first rebel groaned as the sound of shuffling met their ears. “Though don’t worry, we got them back in kind.” The man finally stood, dragging someone behind him. Francis caught sight of his face, and felt shock course through his body.

Evidently, Feliks and Gilbert _had_ been telling the truth. It also explained, in part, why the rebel’s voice had seemed so familiar. The man was tall – taller than Francis – and was almost the mirror-image of Alfred. Their facial features were almost identical, though this doppelganger had higher cheekbones, and his face was less square than Alfred’s. His eyes were a pale shade of violet, while his hair, which was pale blond, was long and curly. He also wore glasses, and bore a vexed expression on his face. As he moved towards them, Francis noticed that the man’s neck was slick with blood, as were his hands.

He unceremoniously dumped Alfred – who he seemed to have given quite a beating to – next to Vash and straightened up. Alfred clearly hadn’t seen his face yet – a cut on his forehead had coated his eyes with dark, sticky blood, which explained why he wasn’t freaking out. The man, who must be the famous Matthew, looked around at them, scowling, though his expression softened marginally when he laid eyes on Gilbert, Feliks, Tori and Roderich. True to their word, they hadn’t gotten involved in the fight, and were all unharmed.

“So, your four understand that we’re not the enemy, at least.” Matthew muttered. He frowned when he spotted the vicious, darkening bruises on Gilbert’s jaw. “What the fuck happened to your face?” Gilbert blinked, fingers moving across his jaw.

“Uh, I, uh, fell.”

A simple glance at Matthew showed that he didn’t believe a word, but the rebel didn’t argue further, as he moved away to lean against the table, picking up a teacloth to press to his neck. Judging by what Francis could see of the wound, the cut was small, but judging by how much blood there was, it was very deep.

Matthew eyed them, before glancing towards Alfred. Still pressing the cloth to his neck, he moved forward, shoved their friend onto his back, and pulled at his leg, stuffing the un-bloodied end of the cloth into his mouth in the same motion, as their friend screamed with pain. Now that Matthew had turned him, Francis could see what had injured their friend. A wickedly long blade – 15 inches at least – had been driven hilt-deep into the top of Alfred’s thigh. Unfortunately for him, it had been stabbed in diagonally – the other end could be seen sticking out just above the underside of his knee. Matthew surveyed the knife with a critical eye, before shrugging, repositioning himself, grabbing the hilt and yanking it out in one swift motion. Alfred’s scream was muffled by the cloth, but Francis winced at the sound nonetheless.

Matthew turned the knife over in his hand, wiped it on his jeans and stowed it in his belt – it belonged to him. Francis felt vaguely ill as the blonde calmly removed the cloth from Alfred’s mouth, and pulled open the bag he’d brought with him – which Francis could now see was a medical kit. He pulled out a tourniquet, and quickly tugged it tight around Alfred’ leg, above the entry wound. Matthew stood, and moved towards the small water bucket they had in the corner, dumping the cloth inside and wringing it out. He moved back towards them, ignoring that they were all watching him silently. He pulled a small bottle from the medical bag, popped it open, and poured the contents onto Alfred’s wound after shoving the now-wet cloth back in his mouth. Again, Alfred’s scream was still audible even through the cloth. He yanked the cloth out when Alfred was done screaming and, using the end which hadn’t been in Alfred’s mouth, wiped away the blood caked around his eyes.

Alfred blinked a few times, rubbing at his eyes with his own sleeve, and finally, looked up and made eye contact with Matthew.

* * *

Alfred swore that he had never been so still in his life.

The man kneeling in front of him, who had just tended to his leg and face –

They were identical. Not completely, but the resemblance absolutely floored him. The memory of him yelling accusations at Gilbert – hitting him – for what he had claimed were lies, swam into his mind –

And he felt ashamed. Because why would his friends lie? They knew how messed up his past had been, especially where family was concerned. He had taken his friends’ pasts seriously, and they had taken his seriously too.

They weren’t lying.

His brother was in front of him.

How long had it been? How many nightmares had he had about that day? How many hours had he spent thinking about the crushing masses and the screaming and the awful realisation that he had let go of his brother’s hand?

Too long, and too many.

His leg was still burning. The pain was so bad – he knew that he was on the verge of passing out. He wished that he could ground himself to reality, but black spots swirled in the corner of his vision. They were dispersed, just for a moment, as the rebel ( _no, not just a rebel – his **brother**_ ) continued to wipe away the blood around Alfred’s eyes and temple.

_(Say something. Say something to him. The pain can wait, can’t it?)_

“I’m just going to let you know,” Matthew said _(and he sounded like Alfred, but softer, a little quieter)_ , “If you ever try to slit my throat again, I’ll break your neck.” The words were said shockingly bare of malice. Purple eyes met blue, and Matthew must have seen that he was fading away. He smiled, ever so slightly. “I’ll still be here when you wake up again.”

And sleep took him.

* * *

Matthew felt relief wash over him as his brother passed out from the pain in his leg. Two of the other prisoners helped him lower him to the ground. All of the adrenaline which he’d had during the fight had just drained out of him. He felt tired and worn. There was silence, before one of the prisoners – a blond dressed in camo pants – spoke up.

“What was the point in muffling his screaming?” he asked, tone clinical. “That noise you let loose on us was far louder.”

Matthew felt himself stiffen. He had guessed that Lukas had done something to subdue them all, and had assumed that it had been some sort of noise, judging by how they had clutched at their ears. Lukas’ expression was impressively blank, but the prisoner didn’t seem to be convinced.

“None of you seemed to be affected by it.” he said, tone accusatory. “Which doesn’t make sense, since it was so loud and all. And anyone who was close enough would definitely have heard it, so it would be pointless to muffle Alfred’s screaming.”

The leader of their crew sighed. “Vash, let it be. Does it matter that much?”

Vash was staring at them, some sort of realisation dawning across his face. “You three didn’t hear it. That’s why you weren’t affected at all. How did you manage to target only certain people with it? You don’t have the ability to get inside our heads–” Vash abruptly went silent.

Matthew’s entire body had gone rigid. His gaze was on Vash, expression hard – warning him against continuing. But he didn’t have to. All of the prisoners’ eyes were on him, and no-one missed it when he got to his feet, and his eyes slowly moved from Matthew to settle on Lukas.

“Well, perhaps one of you can.” He said, voice quiet. Lukas stared him down, looking very much so like he was about to either run for the door or stab Vash in the neck. Their tense standoff was broken, when a choked sound came from their left. Lukas looked over, frowning, as Matthew realised. Of course, their friend was still sick.

Matthew quickly walked over to him, kneeling down next to him. Lukas still hadn’t moved, and now the leader of the bounty hunters – a tall, loud blond – was slowly rising to his feet like Vash had. Vash made to move forwards, and, to Matthew’s immense surprise, the other grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Vash whirled around, glaring at him.

“Let go of me, Matthias.”

But the man’s eyes weren’t on Vash, they were on Lukas.

“As I understand it, if you are who Vash seems to believe you are, you can help us.” he nodded towards Arthur. “He has fluid in his lungs. Shouldn’t that be an area of expertise of yours?” Matthias’s tone was measured, but everyone had noted that Arthur was beginning to turn blue, and his voice was a little strained. Lukas stared him down, and Matthew had to admire the bounty hunter’s resolve as he met the Fynknian’s gaze head on. Lukas had quite the glare.

Keeping his eyes locked suspiciously on Vash, Lukas slowly made his way over to where Matthew was crouched with the pirate. He knelt down next to him, and ran his fingers across Arthur’s chest, no doubt sensing how much liquid was in the man’s lungs, and where it was. He abruptly drew his hand away, and let it hover in their air above his chest. He sent Matthew an inquisitive glance. Matthew shrugged.

“I think they’ve already worked it out.” He admitted. Lukas nodded slightly, sighed so quietly that Matthew almost didn’t hear him, and pushed the pirate onto his side. He barely looked conscious, but a simple brush of Lukas’ fingers against his temple made the man wake up more.

“Breath out when I say.” He said softly, moving his fingers so that they hovered over the man’s chest again. Arthur breathed in, the noise little more than a wet rattle. “Exhale.” Lukas murmured, and as the pirate complied, Matthew watched him twist his fingers in the air and make an odd motion – as if he was pulling on the end of a rope. Watery red fluid rushed from Arthur’s mouth, and he made an odd, coughing noise, but his breathing evened out, the odd noise gone.

Lukas drew himself to his feet. Matthias still had his hand locked around Vash’s arm, watching Lukas.

“Thank you.” the blond said, bowing his head slightly. Lukas didn’t say anything, just stared at him. Vash was still trying to pull out of Matthias’ grip, but it seemed that the assassin had finally met someone who matched him physically.

“Matthias–” Vash growled. Matthias didn’t even budge.

“I know that he’s very pretty, Vash, but we should show at least basic gratitude that he saved Arthur. After all,” he looked at the assassin, “without Arthur, you don’t get paid.” Vash finally seemed to calm down, and Matthias released him. The assassin growled at him, but sat back down. Matthew had to stifle a laugh as Matthias looked back at Lukas, noticed him staring, and winked. Lukas didn’t even afford the bounty hunter his usual eye-roll as he moved past him and exited the container, expression stony.

“Harsh.” Matthias commented happily, before turning to Matthew. “Is he going to be okay?” he asked, nodding at Arthur. Matthew bit his lip. He wished, sincerely that he could say that the man would be. In the scuffle, the wool cap that he’d been wearing had come off his head. His hair…half of it was a mottled mess of grey. Matthew had been around long enough to know that there was only one disease that did that to a person. Looking down, he noticed that the pirate had slipped into unconsciousness. Sighing, he scooped him up and carefully laid him down on a mattress, gesturing for them to all gather around him. Once they had obliged, he pointed out the grey sections of his hair.

“He doesn’t have much of a life left, I’ll be honest.” He sighed. “Greying of the hair is a symptom of the very late stages of Chalydrantis. Coughing up blood is another, now that I think about it.” he looked up at their collectively stunned faces. “He has a week at most.” He ran his bloodied hand back through his hair. “I’m sorry, but there isn’t much that I can do for him.”

They were all silent, before one of the young Yanish teens, who had started to cry, spoke up. “What about that treatment stuff? Don’t you have any of that?” Matthew hesitated.

“Malthecs? We might, but I can’t make any promises.” He noted her saddened expression. “I’ll take a look at our medical stores and see.” She nodded, wiping at her eyes. He smiled sadly.

“Well, since this drama is now over, I think that’ll I’ll be following Lukas back to camp.” Tino spoke up. He glanced at Matthew. “You coming?”

Matthew checked his watch, which had remained miraculously undamaged throughout the fight. It was almost 5am. He sighed, and shook his head. “I’ll take over Lukas’ shift. Do you wanna do the honours of checking our stores for Malthecs?” Tino shrugged.

“Sure. Next guard will show up at about noon. I’ll cover you at base.” Matthew nodded, throwing him a lazy thumbs-up. Tino turned, making sure to scoop up both his mask and rifle as he went, and left Matthew with the prisoners.

* * *

_28 th Maarch_

Tino sighed in exhaustion as he rifled through the stacked boxes. He’d slept far less than he had hoped or wanted to. He’d been lucky to stay pretty much uninjured during the fight, save for a well-aimed punch that the big guy had landed directly in his kidneys which was paining him. As far as he knew, the resistance didn’t store much Malthecs. They were more the kind of people to shrug, say “that’s too fucking bad” and either wait for the illness to take them or ask their superior to shoot them.

But Matthew had asked him to check, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to have to bury anyone. Lukas had joined him in his task, though the boy had been completely silent ever since they had left the container. He had barely mumbled a ‘thank you’ when Tino had disinfected and bandaged his injured hand. Tino shot a look at the teen. True, he had never been the most talkative person, but even this prolonged silence was somewhat unusual. Tino was just considering what to say to him when Lukas finally spoke.

“I’m sorry.” Tino turned, looking at him in bewilderment. “I used my abilities. They know who I am now.” Lukas elaborated. Tino stared at him a moment, then shook his head and sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“What am I to do with you.” He murmured. “Lukas, if you hadn’t used them, Matt would be dead. You saw his neck – he nearly got it slit open. You could have lost a few fingers, if not your whole hand. It’s not your fault that that prisoner happens to be an expert at fucking deductive reasoning.” Lukas remained silent. Tino walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, it’ll be okay. The Union isn’t going to find out that you and Emilia are here, I promise.” Lukas finally sighed, nodding.

They both turned back to the boxes, continuing to sift through. It took another 20 minutes of searching before Lukas made a noise of victory and held up a small bottle and a syringe. “Found some.” He said, smiling softly. Tino grinned at him.

“Awesome,” he said, taking it from Lukas’ hands and dropping it into the pockets of his jacket, “I’ll go a little later and deliver it.” he was about to speak again, when a knock rang out on the wooden door, and a muffled voice said “Lieutenant Vainamoinen?” Tino and Lukas exchanged a look, but Tino called out, “yes?”

The door opened, revealing a girl of maybe 16 or 17, with a slip of paper in her hands. She blinked in surprise when she spotted Lukas, but turned her attention to Tino.

“He’s been helping me fetch morphine for Kabeeta.” Tino lied smoothly, in response to her inquisitive look. The girl nodded, holding out the paper.

“It’s for you.” She said by way of an explanation. Tino’s brow furrowed as he took the paper from her.

“What is it?” the girl shrugged.

“I don’t know. Vice Admiral Asgar told me to deliver it to you.” Tino blanched. Vice Admiral Asgar? She was among the highest-ranked officers in the entire resistance. She used to be an Admiral – the leader of their entire navy, but had gracefully stepped aside and taken a smaller role when Ayshe had been promoted.

“Thank you.” Tino managed. The girl gave a small bow and scurried off. Tino shut the storeroom door, gazing at it.

“If you don’t open that thing soon, _I’ll_ be the one dying of anticipation.” Lukas spoke up. Tino rolled his eyes at the Fynknian, but opened the slip up and read it out loud.

 ** _“By order of Vice Admiral Raneem Asgar, First Lieutenant Tino Vainamoinen has been drafted to give testimony at the trial of Yao Wang, on the 29 th of Maarch, 4512CC_**. ** _”_** he blanched further. “Shit. This is a fucking subpoena. I have to testify tomorrow.” Lukas’ eyes were wide.

“Isn’t it a little late to be sending those out?” he inquired. Tino shook his head.

“Not really. They would only have finalised who was going to testify recently. There’s no way in hell that Octavia wants me to be a witness – she knows that I’m a supporter of Yao’s, so either Yao’s chosen me to testify for his side, or Raneem’s drafting me as a neutral party.”

Lukas was silent. “We need to find that spy, don’t we?”

Tino nodded. Lukas sucked in a breath. “If anyone asks after me, tell them that I’m very sick.”  He said as he headed for the door. Tino stared at him, puzzled.

“What? What are you doing?” Lukas paused.

“I’m going to spend the time until Yao’s trial sifting through the minds of every person in the resistance.” He said. “I just need to…detach my mind from myself, I guess, so I can seek out any traitorous thoughts. It’s like…looking at radio signals. Everyone’s thoughts are raging around in this vast cacophony. I need to be in among them, to listen out for the sorts of things that a traitor would do and say.” Tino frowned.

“That doesn’t sound entirely safe. What if you try to get back to your own mind but can’t?”

Lukas smiled grimly. “Then someone will probably end up possessed, or I’ll be an empty shell forever. In any case, I need to at least try.” He didn’t give Tino any time to argue further, and marched out of the storeroom, expression set with determination.


	35. The Song of the Blackbird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: hmm, i wanna post the next chapter  
> Also Me: but you have serious writer's block on the chapter after this one  
> Me: yeaahhhhhh  
> Also Me: you're gonna post it, aren't you?  
> Me: already done  
> Also Me: *sigh*
> 
> Yes, I am back, and way ahead of schedule!! Yay me! I'm only churning out so many chapters because I'm on holidays currently (winter holidays, because I'm Australian) so this is a good opportunity for me to just write.  
> Anyway, oh boy, this chapter is huge! It clocks in at about 15,225 words! I'm so sorry!! I was going to split it in half, but I was on a roll, so I said "meh, screw it, let them scroll down forever". The trial is this chapter, so enjoy a lot of legal bullshit! (Disclaimer: I am not a lawyer, as will soon become evident)
> 
> RECAP (god a lot happened last time):  
> \- Matthew and Alfred have reunited, though Alfred is now badly injured  
> \- The whole gang knows about Arthur being terminally ill. Luckily, the rebels were able to find some medication for him  
> \- The gang also knows that Lukas is present in the resistance. They also know that 'the Lieutenant' is Tino, a famous sniper  
> \- Lukas is going to go into a sort of trance in order to quickly find out the identity of the spy.
> 
> NAMES (some are new, some are refreshers):  
> \- Arshad Teymouri: Persian Empire  
> \- Teerapat Sripuy: Thailand  
> \- Yaretzi Chapula: Aztec Empire (it's really hard to find Aztec names, okay? Don't judge)  
> \- Jamael Laroussi: Algeria  
> \- Helena Papadopoulos: OC??? (I'm not sure) Anyway, she's Octavia's sister
> 
> WARNINGS (IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!):  
> Okay, so this chapter is 90% legal bullshit, but it does have some more intense scenes, so be warned.  
> Dubious elements include: use of racial slurs (no offense is meant, and i profusely apologise if any is taken), mentions of torture methods and sex.  
> \- IMPORTANT!!!! - There is a semi-graphic (?) scene of sexual assault in this chapter. I am fully aware of the fact that such content can trigger people, in addition to there being people who simply don't want to read such a thing. The section is toward the very end of the chapter, and has been clearly marked out with _double line breaks _, so, if you don't want to read it, just skip down when you see them. Not much detail is given of the scene afterwards, so all should be well.__
> 
>  **ALSOOOOOOOO! I have messed with the HTML on this site to make one part of reading this easier! In the scene where high Nymian is being used, just hover your mouse over the words if on desktop/laptop, and the translation should appear, so you can actually understand what is being said. ******  
> 
> 
> __  
> _Anyway, enjoy this over-long and probably frustrating chapter! Please comment!!_  
> 

_Was there was something there?_

_No, no, no…wrong again…they should quiet down so that it isn’t so hard…why are they all so **noisy**?_

_Their secrets…._

_They all seem to have_

_so very many_

_deep and dark secrets_

_._

_._

_._

_why?_

_What are you trying to hide from me?_

_I won’t tell anyone…_

_I can’t –_

_Because then –_

_I’d have to explain –_

_How I found out in the first place_

_I need to be faster, but_

_There’s so many of you_

_So many fighters_

_With so many secrets…_

_._

_._

_But I need to hurry_

_Because_

_Even though there’s so many of you_

**_I really only need to find one of you._ **

_._

_._

* * *

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma  
29 th Maarch

Yao woke in a cold sweat, the nightmare quickly receding from his consciousness. He didn’t have to wonder what it had been about. Every nerve in his body and mind felt like it was drawn tight – as if he would snap at any moment, and his resolve to prove his innocence would vanish. He forced his shaking hands to still and sat up, running his hand across his brow.

Well, the day was finally here. His trial.

Yao stood, peering through the window in an attempt to gauge what time it was, when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, slowly, to face the two guards who had approached the barred door. One of them stepped closer, wielding a key, and unlocked the door. He remained still as she approached him, roughly pulled his gloved hands into handcuffs and escorted him out.

He was relieved to finally step out of the cell block. Though it was still fairly hot outside, compared to the relentless humidity which he’d experienced inside the cell, the air felt cool on his skin. He rolled his shoulders, wincing at the aches which spread down his shoulders and neck. Sleeping on the ground was never comfortable, and he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He cringed a little when he saw that he was drawing attention. He hadn’t been allowed to wash himself at all in days, and he knew that he must look fairly wretched.

Luckily though, as he had been promised, a shower seemed to be where he was headed. His guards dragged him roughly down a dirt slope and frog-marched him towards a shower block. He deduced that it must have been around breakfast time, because the block was completely deserted. He waited patiently as his handcuffs were unlocked, and he was handed a pile of clothes – they were his own, and must have been taken from his tent – along with a towel, soap and other amenities. He sighed in relief, glad that he would finally get to wash his hair again.

The guard shoved him towards one of the stalls – which thankfully had room to get dressed in – and ordered him to “make it quick.” He nodded mutely and scurried inside, shutting the door. He placed the pile of clothes carefully on the bench, far enough away from the water that they wouldn’t get soaked. He knew for a fact that this stall had always had a faulty water pipe – there was no hot water available. He suppressed his chuckle. If this was the best that Octavia could do to unnerve him, then she really had to try harder.

He turned on the water. Given how hot it was outside, it was lukewarm anyway. He sighed quietly as it raced down his skin, but, bearing in mind the guard’s warning, he quickly took to washing himself. He wrinkled his nose at how much dirt and grime came sloughing off his skin. Really, he knew that Octavia was trying to show her tough side, but that didn’t mean that she had to deprive him of basic hygiene. He almost attacked his hair with shampoo and conditioner, scrubbing away at the oil that had undoubtedly accumulated there in the past few days. The worst part about having black hair was definitely how dirty it got so quickly. He was reluctant to step out from under the stream of water, and only did so when his guard began to bang on the door impatiently. Cursing at them under his breath, he turned off the water and quickly dried himself, pulling on all of his clean clothes bar his jacket and gloves.

He towelled his long hair frantically, wishing that it could dry quicker than it would. Sighing when he noted that he hadn’t been given any sort of brush, he combed through his hair with his fingers, grumbling in displeasure. Realising that his hair was unlikely to cooperate if he tried to braid it, he tugged it up into a high ponytail instead, sighing at the feeling of damp hair on the back of his neck. He pulled on the jacket and gloves quickly, and stepped out, throwing a glower at his guards, noticing as he did that he was taller than both of them.

He was handed a toothbrush, toothpaste and a few breath mints, and quickly took the hint, moving over the sink to clean his teeth. He scowled at then through the mirror as he did so.

“I’ll assume that I don’t get breakfast, then?” he asked as he rinsed his mouth out. His guards were both silent, glaring. He sighed. “Got it. Great conversation this is.”

The pair were quick to handcuff him again, escorting him back out of the block. People had gathered some distance away – trying and failing to look like they weren’t staring at him – and were murmuring among themselves. He winced a little as he was pulled forwards faster by his guards. He was surprised to see a frown on one of their faces as she looked back at the crowd. _Is she trying to spare me from what they’re saying?_ He wondered. More likely, they were running late and wanted to get there as fast as possible. Yao couldn’t fault them for their curiosity, though. Only the judges, witnesses and opposing parties were allowed in the room where he would soon be tried for espionage and treason. Most of these people would never hear the details that were exposed inside.

But their stares raked over his skin. He felt like all of his secrets – every little thing that he would have to admit, were already out in the open. He swallowed. His stomach was tying itself in knots, and not just because of hunger. He took in a deep breath as they approached the building that he would be tried in.

It was one of the few actual physical structures in their base and was used normally as a meeting place for high-ranked officials. Today it would be used to decide his fate. He shuddered slightly as they opened the door and escorted him inside. The room was quite long, with wooden walls and a packed-dirt floor. A high table stood at the far end of the room, next to it was a raised area where people normally spoke. That was likely where the witnesses would be interrogated. Chairs were lined up in rows, though today most of them would go unused. The first row had been pulled forward a bit more than the rest, and had tables arranged in front. He could see a projector screen behind the high table, in clear view of everyone. No doubt, it was to be used to show some of the evidence they had collected.

Everyone else seemed to already be there. He could see Ayshe, seated as close to the front as possible, with Elizabeta next to her. He could also see Tino, Kari, Matthew sitting behind them. He was stunned to see Nelia also seated beside Ines Jakolin. Turning his head to the side as he was pulled forwards, he surveyed the other side of the room. Octavia was there, Ehsan beside her. Zev Batbayaryn and Aelia Gabras also seemed to be witnesses. In their masses, he could also see Mohammed, Raneem, Dalisay and Ali. He relaxed a little upon spotting them.

Yao was dragged up to the front row, where a stake with chains attached had been driven into the ground. Whispering rose around the hall as he was marched up the aisle. His guards unlocked his handcuffs, and locked his newest set of chains in place. He sighed, slumping a little in the chair. All eyes were on him, but he pointedly ignored them, looking up at the high table in front of him. Whenever they had any sort of legal proceeding, they would always appoint three relatively high-ranked officials to acts as judges. His stomach turned over when he noticed that they were already assembled. The three chosen had been Jamael Laroussi (who disliked him, but was sensible), Teerapat Sripuy (who maintained neutrality in most matters) and, his heart leapt, Yaretzi Chapula, seated in the middle. She gave him a welcoming grin, and he felt himself relax. It could have been far worse. He seemed to have been blessed with critical, but not insensible, judges.  

Yaretzi cleared her throat, and began to speak. “Now that we are all assembled, we may begin. First of all, good morning, everyone.” She received a few mumbled ‘good morning’s’ in return, and a very enthusiastic one from Dalisay Mendoza that made Yao smile. Yaretzi also smiled at her and continued. “We are here this morning to review the charges of espionage and treason made against General Yao Wang by Vice General Octavia Papadopoulos and Vice General Ehsan Karimi. First of all,” she said, shuffling some notes in front of her, “we would like to review the charges properly. If you would, Vice General Papadopoulos.”

Octavia stood, casting the barest glance at Yao before she straightened up and began to speak. “Vice General Karimi and myself have made charges of espionage and treason against General Yao.” She cleared her throat. ”We specifically charge him with the use of technology to pass information to enemy cells, sympathising with a Union-centric political cause and manipulating the wider circle of resistance society to obtain an officer’s position.“ Yao gritted his teeth at the last claim. So, she believed that he had manipulated the results of his own election? He should have expected it, but it hurt nonetheless.

Yaretzi nodded to Octavia as she finished speaking and took her seat again. “We acknowledge that these charges have been made, and will endeavour to find the truth of the matter.” She said, tone cool and professional. “I must ask, for the record, that Vice Generals Papadopoulos and Karimi state their personal details.”

Octavia went first, “Octavia Myrine Papadopoulos, Vice General of the Infantry Branch of the rebel forces. Daughter of Mikenos and Atheena Papadopoulos. Sister of Helena Papadopoulos-Karpusi, former Lieutenant-General. 32 years of age.”

“Ehsan Mahyar Karimi, Vice General of the Infantry Branch of the rebel forces. Son of Sohrab Karimi and Fahime Teymouri. Half-brother of Arshad Teymouri, former leader of the resistance. 40 years of age.”

Yaretzi nodded to them as they both sat again. “Thank you. Now,” she spun her chair a little and turned to face Yao, “in the case of the defendant, an in-depth evaluation is required. The questions concerning your personal details will be more invasive than those asked of Vice Generals Papadopoulos and Karimi. Do you have any objection to this?” Yao shook his head. He knew that it was necessary for Yaretzi to explain what she was asking, and why. He also knew that any objection was pointless. Besides – these questions were likely to be the least invasive of them all, regardless of Yaretzi’s warning.

“Okay. Please state your full name.”

“Yao Xinyi Wang.” He said simply.

“Your date of birth, place of birth and age as of today?”

“I was born on the 10th of Octava, 4475CC, in a village called Zet-San Xi in the Es-Tian province of Yan. I am 36 years old.” He saw Ehsan’s eyes widen in surprise after he said his age, and had to suppress a grin. No doubt Karimi was a bit shocked to learn that the man that he (until a few days, at least) answered to was younger than him. Yaretzi nodded.

“Your parents?”

“My mother is Ai-Huo, and my father is Ruogang.” He answered. Yaretzi nodded, turning to her notes again.

“Are either of your parents currently alive, as far as you are aware?”

Yao hesitated, “I don’t have any information as to the status of my parents but…assuming that they are subscribing to the average lifespan on Yan, and that they haven’t been affected by any other factors, I would assume that they are still alive, yes.”

“Okay.” She folded her arms and directed her gaze towards Raneem, who had been in charge of collecting documents and other information for both sides. “Is there any evidence to validate this as the defendant’s real identity?”

Raneem nodded, and selected a document from the top of a pile sitting next to her. “Yes,” she spoke as she approached the high table, “Resource A; a record of a birth certificate filed in the Es-Tian province in 4475CC.” she handed it to Yaretzi, who scrutinised it, Teerapat and Jamael following suit. She nodded, and handed it back to Raneem.

“The court accepts this as valid evidence of your identity.” Yaretzi said to Yao. She shuffled through her notes. “The next set of questions concerns your early life and first interactions with rebel cells.” She nodded to Octavia. “Vice General Papadopoulos, you may proceed.” Octavia nodded and stood. She fixed her gaze on Yao, making eye contact for the first time all morning.

“You were born in the Es-Tian Province, this has been established. Was this also the place in which you were raised?”

Yao nodded. “Yes, I lived in Zet-San Xi until I was 20.” Octavia nodded.

“Would you say that you had any particular political influences while growing up?” she inquired.

Yao blinked. “Uh, no, not really. Zet-San is small, and fairly remote. There was never a lot of political engagement there. It was more moralistic teachings, in all honesty.” Octavia nodded.

“What was your parents’ professions?”

“They were both farmers.” He answered.

“Hmm. Now, basic trade policy in the Union tends to favour lower-class workers, does it not?” Yao sighed.

“I suppose so, yes.”

“So, given that your parents would be directly impacted – advantaged even – by policies enacted by the Union, would you not agree that it is possible that they would have had a Unionist bias?”

“I mean…it’s possible, but my parents never seemed to engage much, politically speaking.”

“I see. Did you yourself become politically engaged at any point while you were still living with Zet-San Xi?” Yao suppressed a small smile at her attempt to pronounce his hometown’s name correctly.

“Not while I lived within the village, no.”

“And at what point did you start to become more engaged with the political environment within Yan, and by extension, the Union?”

“I only really got involved when I moved out of Zet-San.”

“And where did you move?”

“Khiqing.”

“And that is still located within Es Tian Province, correct?”

“Correct.”

“And, was it while living in Khiqing that you first made contact with rebel cells?”

“No, I made contact first while living in Beizaning, also in the Es Tian Province.”

“Can you give the details of that first encounter?”

“It- it was in 4502. Late Janwir, I believe.”

“Do you recall the exact date?”

“I…no, I don’t.” Octavia nodded.

“What other details can you provide about this initial contact? Who did you come into contact with?”

“I came into contact with Arshad Teymouri, though he used a false moniker when I first met him. We met in the Beizaning Cultural and Political Archives.”

“And why were you at the archives that day?”

“It was where I worked. We met because he was asking me for help in finding certain files…”

* * *

 _Beizaning Cultural and Political Archives,_  
Beizaning, Yan,  
Late Janwir, 4502CC

_Yao sighed as he flicked through the glossary, the nervous high-schooler next to him fiddling with the straps of her bag. She’d asked him for help in locating information about a certain political party in the Pre-Expansionist era, and he was on the verge of losing his patience. The girl herself had been polite and well-mannered, but the topic itself was remarkably dull. He was, not for the first time, glad that he’d long graduated from school. His eyes finally caught the word, and he quickly examined the texts with information on the topic. He smiled at her kindly._

_“Found it! Come on, I’ll show you.” She jumped a little at his words, flushing red and muttering her thanks as she trailed behind him. He found the section relatively quickly, and sent her off with a stack of relevant information piled into her arms. She thanked him profusely, bowing and blushing so much that he feared she would topple forward._

_Yao smiled absently to himself as he roved through the shelves, running his fingers along the spines of the numerous books, manuscripts and photo albums stacked inside. He had fallen in love with the archives from his first visit, and it hadn’t taken much persuading by the friendly staff for him to motivate him to start working there, first as a part-timer, and then as his proper occupation. He’d dropped out of the technology course that he’d been studying in order to work full-time here. His parents hadn’t been disappointed, just glad that he had found something that he genuinely loved. It paid very well, too, considering that he was the equivalent of an extra-important librarian._

_He paused in the row, frowning as he felt a gaze on him. Turning, he flushed nervously as he made eye contact with a tall, dark-skinned man. The man blinked, clearly surprised to have been caught staring, looked away, seemingly flustered. Yao hesitated a moment, before walking over to him._

_“Did you need any assistance, sir?” he asked, using Common Standard rather than Yanish. The man blinked._

_“Oh, well, I was trying to find the section on the Kovin’Wa Doctrine, but I somehow ended up in the section on–” he paused, flipping over the book he was holding._

_“The origins of the Min-yan-ko festival held in Shu-Tuan City?” Yao interrupted, tapping the sign right in front of the man’s eyes. He looked at it, and Yao felt a laugh bubble up his throat as the man flushed._

_“Ahh, right.” He laughed sheepishly. “I’m a fairly terrible navigator.”  He chuckled awkwardly. Yao was trying and failing not to smile now._

_“I can show you the section on Kovin’Wa.” he said warmly. The man dropped his hand from the back of his neck, and he smiled._

_“That would be wonderful, thank you.” He said._

_Yao took a moment to look over the man as he moved past him. He was tall – about 6’1’’, considering that he was about three inches taller than Yao – and had dark skin like caramel. His hair was so dark it looked nearly black, and was on the long side, though not Yao’s kind of long, more just ‘slightly over-grown’, and was extremely thick and curly. His eyes were obsidian black, and his smile was almost blindingly white. He was quite handsome, and was maybe ten years or so older than Yao. He was wearing a large brown overcoat – sensible, it was very cold out this time of year – over clothes which Yao would describe primarily as smart casual._

_As they walked, he engaged the man in conversation. He introduced himself as Iraj Zamani, and said that he had moved to Beizaning only recently from Reycass. Yao listened with interest, and in return offered a few details about himself. He told him a little about Zet-San Xi, and gave him a few tips about the best places to eat and shop in the city. Iraj listened with interest. Yao was actually disappointed when they arrived at the section of the archives about the Kovin’Wa Doctrine._

_“Well, here we are,” he said, wishing that he could prolong his discussion with the intriguing man a little longer, “Kovin’Wa.” He turned around to face him. “Was there anything else you needed?” he asked. Iraj was silent for a moment._

_“Well…” he trailed off for a moment, “I would like to get to know you better. Perhaps you could show me some of those good eateries in person?” Yao blinked._

_“Are you asking me out?” he asked, verifiably stunned. Iraj gave a smile._

_“Essentially.”_

_“Well…okay then. Why not?” he smiled shyly at him. “Do you know where Yue Huanghua’s is?” Iraj nodded. Yao shrugged, “how about we meet there tomorrow? My shift ends at 8.” Iraj smiled at him, blindingly bright._

_“Sounds fantastic.”_

* * *

Octavia turned her head towards Yaretzi, Teerapat and Jamael. “No further questions.” She said, moving back to her seat. Yao sighed a little. The questions hadn’t been too bad so far, but he knew that they were bound to get worse.

“Okay,” Yaretzi said, “you met Arshad a few more times after this, correct?” Yao nodded. “As we understand it, your role was collecting information on Yan and sending it to the resistance. Treason carries a penalty of death in the Union. Why did you agree to perform espionage, especially given how harsh the punishment is?”

Yao drew in a deep breath. “I had always been raised with the belief that people were equal. But…well, as I began to become more ‘politically engaged’ as Octavia phrased it, I came to realise that everything that people spouted about the Union being a harbinger of equality were false. The policies they enacted for their own civilians _did_ help them, yes, but their treatment of people from other planets – mostly those that they wanted to conquer – was appalling.”

“Can you recall the first instance in which you viewed the Union with this view? Of their actions being ‘appalling’, I mean.”

“Probably in as early as 4496CC.” he admitted. “The Queen of Syhvva was assassinated, along with her husband. Everyone knew that the Union was responsible, though they denied any and all responsibility. I thought – well, I thought that the fact that they were willing to _kill_ someone and orphan two small children was horrifying. No-one else around me seemed to agree – they all saw it as a good thing. I guess that I started to realise, at that point, that there was something off in how they conducted inter-planetary affairs. I only really started to realise the extent of their crimes after the Expansion, though.”

Yaretzi nodded. “And, in response to the crimes committed by the Union, you began to sympathise more with opposing ideologies, is that what you’re saying?” Yao nodded. He was surprised when Jamael Laroussi leant forward to ask him a question – he and Teerapat had been completely silent up until that point.

“We have established that you worked as an agent of espionage for the resistance for some time. In roughly what time period did you perform these activities?” Yao racked his memory.

“I began spying in Maarch 4502CC, and continued through until about late Juillat of 4503CC. It was about 16 or 17 months, if my math is correct.” Jamael nodded, making a note on the paper in front of him.

“Is it true that, during this time, you visited the base of resistance operations – at that time located in the Arden Delta on Apollomina?”

Yao nodded. “Yes, that is true.”

“The period of time that you spent at Arden was between Decambyr of 4502CC and Fybwari of 4503CC. Is that correct?” Yao nodded again.

“There are some statements which indicate that you were not treated with a great deal of respect while at Arden. Can you elaborate on this?”

Yao hesitated, then nodded.

* * *

 _Resistance Headquarters,_  
Arden Delta, Apollomina,  
11 th Decambyr, 4502CC

_“I still just can’t…” Yao trailed off, staring at his friend in disbelief. “You damn liar, you told me that you weren’t anyone important!”_

_The other man shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “I did say that I had to keep my name secret.”_

_Yao punched him (gently) in the gut. “You’re the leader of the entire resistance, I mean…” he shook his head, hoping that he didn’t look as awestruck as he felt. “I officially know a celebrity.”_

_Iraj – no, that wasn’t his real name –_ Arshad – _threw his head back and laughed. “Do you call all wanted people celebrities? Oh Yao, you are truly far too good for such a dirty business.” Yao flushed._

_“As are you.” He teased in return. Arshad chuckled, and threw his arm around Yao’s shoulders, pulling him closer._

_“What do you think so far?” he asked, gesturing to the expanse of forested area, and the numerous buildings, tents and shacks proper up underneath._

_“I’ve been here all of an hour!” Yao laughed. “But I do like it. Apollomina is such a beautiful planet, don’t you think?” Arshad smiled at him, and nodded._

_“I can’t argue with that assessment.” He said. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by someone from behind yelling ‘Arshad!’. He turned, pulling Yao around with him, as a tall, Daernic woman approached them. She blinked a little in surprise when she spotted Yao, but smiled nonetheless._

_“I’ve been looking for you for ages!” she laughed. Arshad grinned._

_“My apologies, I was showing my lovely friend from the archives around.” He said. The woman’s eyes widened._

_“So, you’re Blackbird, then?” she asked. Yao blushed a little at the name. Arshad had come up with it. He nodded, and the woman smiled even more, holding out her hand. He shook it. “I’m Helena Papadopoulos.” She explained._

_“Yao Wang.” He responded. She smiled._

_“Your intel on the Mikabe Shield System was invaluable.” She said, bowing her head slightly to him. “You saved many lives. Thank you.”_

_“Oh!” he waved his hands. “It’s- I-, it’s my job! That’s okay!” Helena laughed at his fumbling and smiled at Arshad._

_“I see what you mean. He’s adorable.” Yao felt his face turn even redder as both Arshad and Helena laughed. She grinned, though was clearly trying to wipe the expression from her face. “Sorry, though I do like to tease.” He shrugged, patting his cheeks to see if they were still flaming red. Helena grinned, though her attention was quickly caught by someone behind them, and she waved them over._

_“Mohammed! Blackbird’s finally come to meet us all!” the man she was beckoning came over, brow furrowing when he spotted Yao. Helena introduced him. “This is Mohammed Hassan, he’s a Colonel, so you’ve gotta respect him.” She winked after the statement, which detracted from it’s fairly serious nature._

_“I’m Yao Wang.” He introduced himself. Mohammed nodded, gaze sharp. He turned to Arshad and abruptly began to speak in High Nymian._

_ "Buraya getirdiğine inanamıyorum" he said, voice low. Arshad’s entire body stiffened, and Yao felt his nails dig painfully into his arm._

_"Onun adı Yao."  Arshad responded._

_"O bir şaşı göz."  Mohammed said back._

_"Bunu söylemeye nasıl cüret edersin!" Arshad snapped at the other man. Mohammed scowled, and the two engaged in a tense, silent standoff before Hassan stepped back, threw Yao a vicious look, and stormed off._

_"Onun gibi insanlara güvenemeyiz!"_   _The man called over his shoulder. Arshad tensed again, and moved forward, as if he was preparing himself to run after the other and hit him. Yao grabbed his arm._

_“What was that all about?” Helena asked, looking puzzled. Arshad sighed._

_“Just…a strategic misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about.” Yao didn’t miss the look that his friend threw him, however, and forced himself to maintain a calm, slightly befuddled expression._

_He didn’t have the heart to tell Arshad that he’d understood every word._

* * *

“…Yes, there were a few instances in which I was treated differently to other new recruits.”

“Why was this?” Jamael inquired.

“My race, obviously. I was one of the first ever defectors from the Kyrs System. I was the first ever to come from Yan. People didn’t trust me, and they were scared that I was going to betray them.” He shrugged. “In their fear, they lashed out at me.”

“So, you were subjected to verbal abuse? Racial slurs and the like?” Yao nodded.

“Yes, that was the majority of it.”

“Did you ever suffer any physical harm based on your race?”

“Not that I can recall, no.”

“Can you name any of the people who targeted you with racial abuse during this time?”

“Yes,” Yao said, “but just because I can doesn’t mean that I will. It’s irrelevant.” Jamael raised an eyebrow, but Yao could have sworn that he saw something resembling respect flash across his face first.

“No further questions.” He said, sitting back in his chair.

Teerapat was the next to speak.

“Now, we have established that your path to joining the resistance seems to be fairly believable. However, Vice-Generals Papadopoulos and Karimi have breached the subject that you are masterful at influencing, or even manipulating, the emotions of others. For that reason, we find it is relevant to question your emotional ties to certain members of the resistance.” Yao felt his stomach turn over. Oh. So, this was when the harder questions started.

“Vice-General Papadopoulos, you may proceed.” Teerapat said, sitting back and folding his arms.

Octavia stood again.

“You have admitted that, for close to nine months, your only point of contact with the resistance was Arshad Teymouri.” She said, leaning against her table and surveying him. “Would say that, given this fact, at the time of your stay on Apollomina, he was your closest contact?”

Yao nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Given your large amount of exposure to him, and the friendship that you two had, it is likely that you would have been able to exert at least a small amount of influence over him. Considering this, is it true that you, indeed, were the one to first bring up the subject of going to the rebel base of operations, then located at Arden?” Yao hesitated. Oh, she was better than he had given her credit for. And she had really done her research.

“Yes, that’s true.” He murmured, feeling his stomach sink as he saw Jamael and Teerapat frown at one another. Octavia began to pace in front of him.

“So, one could say that your motivation for visiting Arden was to scope out the area and report the location?”

“One _could_ say that, but they would be incorrect.” He snapped. Octavia paused for a moment, before turning and facing him.

“What exactly was the nature of your relationship with Arshad Teymouri?” she asked, and Yao swore that his chest seized up.

How on earth would he answer that? He himself had never really known

* * *

_Late Fybwari, 4503CC_

_Yao sighed, gazing at the ship as the figures scurrying around it’s base continued to load supplies into the hull. He folded his arms, casting another glance behind him, at the rich green foliage which enveloped the hidden rebel camp. It had been fun to be here – despite a few less than pleasant encounters – and he was sad to be leaving already. To stay any longer was risky, though. He’d only been able to get such a long break from the archives because he almost never used his actual holiday leave, and it had accumulated over time._

_“Oiyo!” Yao was already grinning as he turned. Arshad was approaching him, smiling jovially, as he almost always was. “I hope that you weren’t planning on shuttling back to Beizaning without saying goodbye first!”_

_Yao made an overexaggerated motion. “Curses! My plot has been foiled!”_

_Arshad laughed, almost tackling him in a hug. “As if I’d ever let you go without saying goodbye first.” He said, voice filled with mirth. “I hope that we weren’t all so awful that you feel the need to return.”_

_Yao smiled, though a little more wanly. “Oh no, not at all. I will admit, I have heard rumours recently, that everyone is convinced that one particular spy is a double agent, and is actually working for the Union.” Arshad frowned._

_“That sounds preposterous. I don’t know why everyone listens to such mindless gossip.”_

_“Oh, I don’t know. They made the very compelling point that this supposed double agent is of an inferior ethnicity.”_

_“Hey.” Arshad said, elbowing him. “I don’t care if you’re messing around, don’t ever say something like that about yourself.” Yao shrugged, but didn’t make eye contact._

_“I didn’t mind it that much, Arshad. I’m going back because it’s about time I did. Besides, there isn’t much that one can do when they aren’t even allowed in planning rooms.” He could feel the tension in Arshad’s frame as he said that._

_“I still can’t believe that.” Arshad muttered bitterly. “I’ll flay them for that, I swear.” Yao shrugged._

_“At least the refugees were happy to let me help them.” He sighed. “That little Syhvvanian – Romeo – he seemed to be trying to merge with my leg.”_

_Arshad laughed. “Oh that’s right! Yes, he can be a little clingy, but he really took to you.” Yao smiled. He’d had to make sure to have the small boy in bed before leaving, to avoid the inevitable crying and tantrum that would accompany him leaving._

_“Well, I prefer the rumour that I’m an excellent babysitter over all of the other ones.” He said. Arshad made a low humming noise in his throat. He straightened up after a moment, gazing at something. Yao followed his gaze, and noted a small group of teenaged recruits, all of whom seemed to be stealing glances at the two of them._

_“Why don’t we start a new rumour?” Arshad asked. Yao frowned, turning to face him._

_“Oh? What do you have in mind?” Arshad gazed at him for a moment, before a smile crept across his face. He pulled Yao’s arm so that he was facing him properly, reached around and tugged a leaf out of his braid, leaned forward, and kissed him._

_He stiffened in shock, but relaxed only a moment later, and leaned into Arshad, cautiously sliding his hands up the other man’s arms. He felt hands on his waist, before one slid underneath his shirt, and he could feel Arshad’s hand pressed against the bare skin of his ribs. Feeling a little braver, Yao moved one of his hands into Arshad’s hair, knotting his fingers through the curls. He felt the other’s man teeth graze his lower lip, and let out an embarrassing moan. He didn’t have long to feel humiliated, however, as Arshad took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Yao’s mouth._

_When he finally felt like he could barely breathe, Yao gently tugged Arshad’s head backwards, and they separated, both breathing heavily. He could distantly hear the teenagers giggling. He blushed, and stepped away._

_“I think that would just about do it.” Arshad commented mildly, a wide grin on his face._

_Yao punched him in the gut, face burning. “Is that the only reason you wanted to kiss me?”_

_The look that Arshad sent him was long and uncommonly intense._

_“Not at all.”_

* * *

It had never been clear – they had always blurred some sort of line. But that was what made their relationship so special. Arshad had been so much to him, he felt like if he tried to define it, some of it’s meaning would be lost.

Thankfully, he was saved from answering only by an interruption by Teerapat.

“What is the relevance of this question, Octavia?”

“I am wishing to see if General Yao would have, in the past, been in a position to potentially emotionally manipulate the late General Teymouri.” Teerapat frowned.

“Rephrase the question for clarity, please.” Octavia nodded.

“Very well.” She said, turning back to face Yao again, before she somehow made it even worse. “Did you ever have sexual relations with Arshad Teymouri?” he blinked in shock, almost wishing that he could go back in time and just answer her first question.

She noted the bewilderment on his face, and elaborated. “Whether it was once, or many times, did your relationship with Arshad Teymouri ever involve sexual intercourse?”

Yao didn’t even have to wonder over that question. _(He still remembered every second. He still remembered how they’d ended up slipping out their clothes and what it had been like to have their sweaty bodies pressed together. And he still remembered what it had felt like to have Arshad inside him.)_

He exhaled. What was the point in lying? “Yes.” Octavia nodded, not looking even remotely surprised by the information.

“Was this a regular occurrence, or otherwise?” Yao could see that Ehsan looked rather uncomfortable. No wonder; he was Arshad’s half-brother, after all.

“No. It only happened once.” He said. Just a few weeks before Yao had been taken. He had always wondered what would have happened between he and Arshad if _they_ hadn’t caught onto his espionage act. Octavia nodded.

“No further questions.”

Yaretzi eyed the witnesses in the stand. “Mohammed Hassan, if you would.” He looked up, nodded and moved towards the raised platform.

“What comments can you make about the relationship between Yao Wang and Arshad Teymouri?”

Mohammed frowned. “I probably have less perspective than either of them would. But…I can speak for what Arshad’s view seemed to be.” Yaretzi gestured for him to continue. “If I had to describe it…well, reasonably excusing error, I would say that Arshad was in love with him.” Yaretzi nodded.

“And, in your opinion, would you say that these feelings were returned?”

“From what I saw of their interactions…yes, I would say so.”

“So, you would describe the relationship as one of genuine emotion, rather than potential manipulation?”

“Yes, I would.”

Yaretzi nodded and dismissed Mohammed. Once he was seated again, she turned to Yao.

“After your stay on Apollomina, which extended into Fybwari of 4503CC, you returned home to Beizaning, correct?” he nodded. “In the following months, you continued to pass information to the resistance. In early Augynt of that year, however, we observed total radio silence from you, until status reports indicate you as ‘located’ in Septombre of the next year. Correct?” he nodded.

“Can you elaborate as to what you were doing in the roughly 13 months between your disappearance and your relocation?” Yao smiled thinly.

“I was… _incapacitated_ , for lack of a better term. I’ll answer properly when I’m asked the right questions.” He said. Yaretzi raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.

“I see. Now that we have firmly established the general basis on which your loyalty to the resistance is based, perhaps it is time that we examined the particular reasons upon which these charges of treason and espionage have been based.” Yaretzi nodded to Ehsan, who began to speak.

“On the 10th of Maarch, the resistance received a canister containing information about the spy buried within our ranks. Many of the details contained within have been determined to be pertinent to you. Among the most compelling we consider the facts that the supposed spy wears long clothing to conceal an audio recorder, as you always do, has a background in radio technology, which you possess due to your skill set prior to your election and past on Yan, and has been with the resistance for a considerable amount of time.”

“Thank you, Ehsan. Now,” Yaretzi said, “these charges are going to be reviewed, from the least to most compelling pieces of evidence.” Yao felt his stomach tighten. “The first, if you would.”

Ehsan nodded. “We have deduced that the least compelling piece of evidence is the length of Yao’s service in the resistance. We can determine that the spy is in fact a sleeper agent, and as such has likely been a member for the resistance between 4 and 12 years. Given the nature of historical and political events in the past 12 years, and recent political manoeuvres which have altered the dynamic between the Union and us, we find it more likely that the spy has been within our ranks for a maximum of about 7 years. General Yao, having joined the resistance in 4502CC, ten years ago, does not fit this specific profile.” Ehsan admitted. Yaretzi nodded.

“So, in General Yao’s case, you are disregarding the time frame as compelling evidence?”

“Yes, we are.” He said, nodding. Yao relaxed a little. It was a relief to know that Ehsan was willing to make reasonable concessions. He knew how this would go. Octavia and Ehsan would be given the opportunity to present their case, and as they did, testimony would be taken from the witnesses that they had gathered. Afterwards, Yao would then be given the final chance to refute their claims and try and clear his name. The trial was naturally stacked against him, but that was a norm of espionage trials. The rebels were too cautious to potentially let a spy go free.

“Vice-General Papadopoulos and I would like, with your permission, to explore the evidence concerning technological use.” After receiving a nod from Yaretzi, Ehsan continued. “The canister contained information which indicated that the spy was highly proficient in the use of technology. This can be assumed due to the facts that this spy is using a unique, single-frequency radio, which is likely difficult to manoeuvre, and that they are proficiently using technology to record audio segments and transfer classified files to the Union database.”

Ehsan turned to Yao. “Kindly explain to the court what your background in technology is.”

Yao took a deep breath. “Well…I did start a technology course while attending university in Beizaning, though I never completed the degree, as I left to work in the Archives. Prior to that, my primary source of knowledge was more hands-on. Since Zet-San Xi was so remote, we had to fix our own vehicles and appliances if they ever broke. I’ve used technology consistently since, mainly for training, planning or strategic purposes.” Ehsan nodded as he finished.

“Now, while you acted as a spy for the rebellion, you contacted Arshad Teymouri using several methods, this is known. Is it true that, after your stay at Arden, you began to use a single-frequency radio to contact the resistance?” Yao drew in a shuddering breath.

“Yes, that is true.”

Teerapat, who had watched the exchange with great interest, sat up straight. “A bold connection to make, Vice-General.” He said. Ehsan blinked, looking over at him in surprise. Teerapat looked at Yao, frowning slightly, and he felt his stomach sink. The man sat back in his chair. As Ehsan was about to continue, Raneem tentatively raised her hand. Teerapat nodded at her.

“Vice-Admiral Asgar?”

“Request to provide event testimony.” Teerapat blinked, looking surprised, but nodded.

“Granted.”

Raneem stood from her place and moved to the front of the room, up to the raised platform, before sitting on the chair and looking to Teerapat. He shuffled his notes and folded his arms, peering at her.

“Begin when you are ready.” He said. Raneem tilted her head a little.

“From Maarch to early Maii of 4503CC, I was assigned to be Yao’s point of contact within the rebellion. This was done to provide more time for Arshad, who had been his contact up until that point.”

Teerapat nodded. “I see. Can you comment on the use of single-frequency radios?”

Raneem nodded. “Yes. I had encountered them before and recalled the benefits of using them – most specifically, the extreme difficulty of ‘eavesdropping’ by outside sources. There were fears that Yao would be compromised, so I suggested their use.”

“You’re saying that Yao began using a single-frequency radio under your instruction?”

“Yes.”

Teerapat nodded. “You say that your period of working as Yao’s primary contact lasted from Maarch to Maii. However, as has already been stated, Yao stopped officially working as a sleeper agent in Beizaning in late Juillat. Why did you stop being a first-line responder?”

“Well, my position had already undergone some changes, and it was recommended that I was relocated to a position in the strategic field. I accepted, and ceased to be Yao’s contact.”

“And who took your place?”

“…it was Arshad, I believe.” She said slowly.

“And this was in early Juillat?”

“Yes.”

“You are dismissed, Vice-Admiral Asgar, thank you.” Raneem nodded and stepped down from the platform, shooting Yao a nervous look. He forced himself to smile slightly, though he felt like he was on the verge of being sick. This was going to get worse and worse, he could just tell.

Octavia stood, and he felt nausea creep up again.

“One of the most compelling pieces of evidence that suggests that Yao is in fact the spy that has been leaking information is the matter of the AXO-549 audio recording devices.” She turned towards the screen behind the high table, and flicked a remote. The blueprints of the device came up on the screen. “Resource B. These are the blueprints for the fine-tuned audio recording device. They were among the intel recovered in the canister.”

Jamael scrutinised the blueprints. “Kindly elaborate on the specifics of this device, Vice-General Papadopoulos.”

“The device can record audio for up to 48 hours at a time, and is able to record audio in several different fields. This allows it to produce multiple different recordings, so that the impact of factors like fabric moving, and a wearer’s heartbeat, are not audible. The device is small enough to be worn underneath clothing without detection. Given the nature of its purpose, placement on the arms or neck would be ideal for audio collection.”

Jamael folded his arms. “I see. And I suppose that this is one factor of your suspicion of General Yao, then? It is no secret that he prefers long clothing.” Octavia nodded.

“Yes. We are also basing our suspicions on General Yao’s own extreme reluctance to ever be seen without long sleeves, or indeed, gloves, in place.” Yao winced. He had known that this would come up at some point. Jamael nodded, surveying Yao critically.

“Yao’s background knowledge of technology would also give credibility to this, as the device appears to be difficult to use, perhaps purposefully so.”

Yao sighed, regretting that he’d ever been interested in studying technology. Even though he had never even finished the degree, Octavia seemed to be heralding it as evidence of his supposed ‘treachery’.

“Do you have any further evidence to provide to the court?” Jamael inquired.

Octavia nodded. “We pulled the shift timetables from dates at which information was likely to be taken from the primary database. General Yao was listed as on-duty in each.”

Yao cursed under his breath as the three judges looked over the sheet which Octavia had supplied them with, brows furrowed. She was well and truly succeeding at deconstructing his innocence. Even Yaretzi, who had always been a friend to him, looked unnerved, and shot him a wary glance.

“If Vice-Generals Papadopoulos and Karimi have no further claims to make, we will proceed into witness testimony.”

Octavia and Ehsan both nodded, and Teerapat picked up another sheet.

“The witnesses called today to give testimony have been split into two separate groups; Character Witnesses and Factual Witnesses. Character Witnesses will provide testimony based on the accused’s behaviour and personality, and their own perception of the character of the accused. Factual Witnesses will provide testimony on the physical evidence found, in addition to past events and experiences. It is expected that all witnesses will provide testimony as truthfully as possible, and attempt to remain unbiased throughout the duration of their questioning.”

Remain unbiased? That was unlikely to happen. Still, Yao felt himself relax marginally. At the very least, he wasn’t having questions thrown at him again.

“The court calls First Lieutenant Tino Vainamoinen to testify, as a character witness.” Tino sat up straight, looking a little frightened at the prospect at going first. Nonetheless, he stood straight-backed and confident as he approached the platform.

 “State your relationship with Yao Wang.”

“I’m a member of the First Sniper Division. As such, I’m an indirect underling of his, though I would say that we are friends, outside of a professional sphere.” Yao smiled at that, nodding ever so slightly at him. Tino had barely closed his mouth before Jamael was speaking again.

Octavia and Jamael were the ones doing the questioning, and it was clear from the moment that Laroussi opened his mouth that he was convinced Yao was guilty. He didn’t think that he’d ever heard such targeted questions in his life. For all the talk of the witnesses being unbiased, the judges themselves didn’t seem to be succeeding in that field. Tino actually paused and gawked at Jamael at certain points. Yao was fairly certain that they both choked on air when Jamael actually asked if their relationship had ever become intimate. Even disregarding the 16-year age gap between them, the very idea was uncomfortable. Tino looked like he was ready for death when Octavia actually asked him if Yao had ever tried to flirt with him, and responded with a firm ‘no’.

Yao leant back slightly to talk to Ayshe and Elizabeta. “From the questions that they’re asking, you’d think I was some sort of sex predator.”

Elizabeta giggled. “I always did think that you were a cougar, Yao.” Ayshe snorted at her comment. “If anything, it would be the other way around, wouldn’t it?” Elizabeta continued. “After all, Arshad was the older one of the two of you, wasn’t he?”

Yao’s smile dampened just a little. “Yeah. Eleven years older.”

Elizabeta nodded. “So, you’re not a cougar; but you are into them.” Yao choked on his own spit and glared at Elizabeta. Ayshe chuckled.

“Enough teasing, Elizabeta.” She said. “You could be up next.” That shut the Daernic girl up quickly enough, and they all turned their attention back to the questioning.

Tino looked relieved when they finally dismissed him, and almost collapsed into his chair as they called Ali up to go next. As a neutral witness, his testimony was much less…passionate that Tino’s, but still not unhelpful to Yao’s case. He stuck to the facts, which was good. Yao couldn’t help but notice that he was up there for a far shorter time than Tino – likely because Octavia couldn’t warp his testimony against Yao as easily.

Up next was Raneem. She spent most of her time rehashing what she had already said about her time spent communicating with Yao, as well as some other details about the work she had done with him since. Though, like Ali, she mostly just stuck to the facts, Yao smiled a little when she adamantly insisted that she didn’t consider him capable of treachery. He knew that her words meant that the evidence she’d collected would now be considered with a grain of salt, but he was grateful for them nonetheless.

After Raneem’s almost 40-minute stint on the stand, it was Aelia Gabras’ turn. He should have expected the utter decimation of his character which she displayed, but was left feeling somewhat stunned and hurt afterwards nonetheless. He wasn’t surprised at the sheer harshness of her words – Gabras had never gotten along with him, and as a close friend of Octavia’s, it was only to be expected that she would take her side.

Once Gabras had finally been convinced to end her testimony – almost an hour and a half after she had begun – it was Elizabeta’s turn. The girl had been grumbling about Aelia, and didn’t look entirely prepared to get up on the stand, but complied nonetheless. Though she spoke strongly, and confidently, Yao felt like the damage which Gabras had intended to sow had already been done. Teerapat and Jamael didn’t look overtly convinced, and even Yaretzi still looked uneasy. The tension in his shoulders had been growing since the testimonies had begun, though something in him snapped when he heard them ask Elizabeta, similarly to how they had questioned Tino, if her relationship with him was ever sexual.

“It might shock you, Vice-General Papadopoulos, but I don’t sleep with people to make them be friends with me.” Octavia paused, casting a look over her shoulder at him.

“I meant no offence.” She said, though her tone indicated otherwise. Yao sat back, anger fading as she rephrased her questioning.

Elizabeta looked almost as shaken as Tino, by the time she was finished being questioned.

“God, it’s intense. Octavia knows how to intimidate people, I’ll give her that.” Ayshe smiled sympathetically, rubbing her shoulder.

Yao was given a short string of good luck as Kari, Ines, Matthew and Nelia were called up next. Kari and Matthew defended him so viciously that he started to get emotional. Nelia was less passionate, but still calm, and she took his side. Ines had been called in as a ‘neutral’ witness, and delivered. Her testimony, like those others who dared to not take a side, was shortlived.

But after those four had given their statements, the trial quickly went more downhill than before.

Dalisay Mendoza was up after Nelia, and though she tried her hardest to remain calm and neutral, her dislike of him was evident. He wasn’t surprised; they had had several disagreements in the past, when both had thought the other was overstepping their boundaries. Though she had obviously been instructed to try and look cool and clinical, she quickly got emotional. He couldn’t even fault her for that – Dalisay was, at her core, light and cheerful. She cared deeply about everyone around her. Even though she and Yao had several differences, most of which were painfully obvious, she had still always treated him with a great deal of respect. He couldn’t be angry at her; she had been asked for her honest opinion, and this was it.

After Dalisay had stepped down, Mohammed was next.

Yao did his best to hide his winces when Mohammed recalled the distrust that he had of Yao when they first met, though he found himself reacting when the man listed moments where he had doubted him, which occurred after the Arbiter. Yao and Mohammed respected each other now, yes, but Mohammed still wasn’t his greatest friend. He showed basic concern for Yao when he pushed himself too far, though that was more due to the fact that Hassan wanted the leader of their entire movement – the only person who could give him orders – to be sound in mind and body.

Though Mohammed’s testimony was more neutral in nature than Yao had hoped, it had clearly started to undo any good will that the judges might have had for him after his friends’ testimonies.

He was relieved when Mohammed stepped down, but it took less than three minutes into Zev Batbayaryn’s testimony for him to wish that General Hassan was back on the stand.

If Aelia Gabras had decimated any idea of his innocence, Zev completely annihilated it. Yao had never been aware that he had apparently offended the Major so, but judging by the harsh, cruel and downright hateful words which the man spouted, Yao might as well have mortally wounded him. He sat in shock for an hour, listening to the Major espouse hate and anger, clenching and unclenching his fists. When Zev finally stepped down, Yao was unsure if he wanted to punch him or apologise.

He cast a look at the clock. They had been inside this building for close to seven hours now, and his lack of food was starting to make him lightheaded. They had been given a brief break, about halfway through the testimonies, but even that had been almost three hours ago. He could see the sky slowly but surely darkening outside.

Teerapat sighed, looking as tired as everyone else seemed to feel, and called up their last witness.

“The court calls Admiral Ayshe Kartal to testify.” He said lazily. Ayshe stood, and swept gracefully towards the front of the room, throwing Yao a single, nervous smile as she sat in the stand.

“What is your relationship with Yao Wang?”

“We work closely together. Because our rankings are of a similar nature, we cooperate on many projects which require the combination of infantry and navy forces.”

“Would you consider yourself friends?”

“I would, yes.”

The questioning continued much in the same trend as those before, though unlike some of the previous witnesses, Ayshe spoke in a way that made it hard for Octavia, or anyone else, to misconstrue or twist around her words. He felt himself grow hopeful. Though Ayshe sat answering questions for ages, though, he felt like her efforts might have been too little, too late. Finally, Octavia seemed to wind down her questioning. It was one of her last ones, however, that sent chills down his spine

“Now, you said previously that you have known Yao Wang for approximately 8 years, correct?”

Ayshe nodded.

“Can you tell us, how exactly did you two first meet?”

Ayshe froze, eyes widening. “I…what is the relevance of this question?”

“I just want to get a proper feel of how your friendship started.” Octavia responded, looking at her expectantly. Ayshe was still silent. Her gaze moved to Yao, and they made eye contact. He nodded slightly, telling her to continue. Ayshe sighed.

“We met during Operation Parasite, in mid-4504CC.” she said quietly. Octavia frowned, looking confused.

“I see. Would you like to elaborate on that?” Ayshe stared her down.

“No, I would not.” She said sharply. There was tense silence for a moment, before Octavia dismissed her. Ayshe looked pale as she walked down and retook her seat. Yao smiled at her, though nerves were making his stomach bunch up.

“Okay, now that that’s over,” Teerapat said, looking relieved, “I think that we’ll all take a break, and then regroup so that General Yao can give his defence. Witnesses, you are no longer required to attend. Those choosing to return, please be ready to resume session in 40 minutes’ time.”

There was a murmur of agreement, and the room began to empty. Yao smiled sadly at his friends as they left. He wasn’t technically allowed to talk to any of them; he’d only gotten away with talking to Ayshe and Elizabeta earlier because everyone’s attention had been occupied.

He sighed and leant back, nodding to his guards gratefully when they finally brought him food and water. The next session was going to be a nightmare.

* * *

_I don’t have much time._

_I know I need to hurry, but………._

_So many minds, so little time to sift through them._

_I wish that anyone else could take over this task for me….._

_But I would never do that to her…she’s my sister…she’s less powerful…_

_This is so terrifying…if I can’t face it…._

_She wouldn’t be able to, either, though. She’s littler than she acts…_

_Either way, this is my job…...I said that I would do it_

_._

_._

_._

_What if I can’t find them?_

_I’ve looked through so many heads, but they’re still evading me._

_._

_._

_._

_no_

_I’ll find them_

_Not because I have to_

_._

_I want to_

_._

**_I won’t let them hurt my friends even more_ **

_._

_._

_._

* * *

Yao felt ready to be sick when they walked back inside the courtroom forty minutes later. He wished that he could put this off, but it was finally time for him to answer the tough questions…

He knew what he would have to talk about. It made him sick to his stomach.

But he knew that he had to.

The mood was more subdued as people began to walk back inside. He noticed that several of the witnesses had not bothered to return. Zev and Aelia were absent, as was Nelia. He didn’t blame them; many people had not wanted to give testimony today, so it made sense that they had left as soon as they were able. Still, he cringed at the thought of how many people would be hearing about everything that had happened to him. In addition to his three judges, Octavia and Ehsan, there were still ten other people who would see and hear everything.

He felt sicker than ever.

“The court calls General Yao Wang to the stand, to present his own defence.” He was shaking ever so slightly, he could tell, as he was led up to the chair and chained to it. One of his guards, the same one who had quickly ushered him away from crowds that morning, shot him a concerned look, but said nothing. They quickly darted away once he had been chained down, and Yao looked around nervously. Yaretzi tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder, and began to spoke.

“Before Vice-General Papadopoulos begins her own questioning, I would direct a few inquiries to General Yao’s guard.” She faced the two guards who had watched his cell and brought him there that morning. They stood at attention, looking a little surprised. Yarezti eyed them sternly.

“One of the major claims made today is that General Yao wears long clothing in order to conceal a small, audio recording device. The only period of time in which he has been permitted to change clothes was this morning, correct?” they both nodded as she continued. “Has any physical evidence been found of such a device, either on General Yao’s person, in his belongings, or on the person of anyone who has come into contact with him?” his guards exchanged a look.

“No,” one of them said, “no evidence of such a device has been found.” Yarezti nodded as Yao felt himself relax marginally.

Octavia stood after receiving a nod to begin from Teerapat.

“Between Augynt of 4503CC, and Juillat of 4504CC, you maintained complete radio silence. You abruptly broke off contact on the 5th of Augynt. An inspection of your place of residence showed that all documents and other information collected by you for the resistance had vanished. It is, understandably, believable that you did in fact, betray the resistance and sell information out to the Union.” Yao swallowed. So, they were starting here?

“I can see why one would make such an assumption.” He said cautiously. Octavia was watching him carefully, before she turned to Raneem.

“Resource D, if you would, Raneem.” Raneem nodded dutifully, and pulled a small disk drive from the pile next to her, and plugged it into the laptop connected to the projector screen. Octavia continued speaking. “Resource D; the audio recording of the last transmission between field agent ‘Blackbird’ and home base, on the 5th of Augynt, 4503CC.” Octavia nodded to Raneem, and she played the audio file. Yao sighed. If he remembered right, this conversation has at least been short.

There was a burst of static at the beginning, then a voice filtered through. Yao almost sobbed. It was Arshad, sounding the same as ever. Even Ehsan looked a little melancholy at hearing his brother’s voice.

_“HQ to Blackbird, do you copy?”_

There was the sound of a shaky, rattling breath, before the faint response.

 _“I copy.”_ It was his voice. He sounded so… _young_. Yao suppressed a shiver. He’d been 27 years old, and nearly delirious with fear when he’d made this call; he knew that it had showed.

_“Blackbird, can you provide a reason for the distress signal sent out earlier today?”_

_“Yes, I can…I…”_  the voice trailed off in a shuddering sob, before resuming, _“they know I’m here.”_

_“They?”_

_“The fucking- oh, you know who I mean. They know that I’ve been spying.”_ There was total silence for a moment, before Arshad responded again, any remnant of a joking tone gone from his voice.

_“Are you certain?”_

_“Yes. They know that I’ve been stealing files and hacking into websites and-”_ he cut himself off, drawing in another shaky breath.

_“Okay. Well, if you’re certain that they’ve figured out your identity, we can send an extraction team along in a few days-”_

_“A few-, they’re coming NOW!”_ Yao’s voice yelled in response _. “I…I don’t have days. I have hours, maybe not even that…”_ His past self had been so panicked, and his anxiety and fear were obvious to everyone in the room. Yao could see a few people exchanging surprised looks. That didn’t shock him. He wasn’t exactly known as someone who got scared easily.

 _“Okay, okay…”_ Arshad was speaking again _, “just calm down a little. Do you have any evidence of your involvement in your apartment?”_

There was a moment of silence on the tape.

_“Yes…I, I do. What- what do I do with it?”_

_“Destroy it. They can’t convict you if they have no evidence.”_

Yao gave a hollow laugh _. “They don’t need evidence. That’s how things work here.”_

_“Okay then, but destroy it anyway. Can you get out of the city tonight?”_

_“Th-they’ll have staked out my apartment building. They’ll know if I leave, and they’ll just capture me-”_ he broke off again, letting out a small sob _. “I-I don’t want to get tortured.”_ The words were spoken quietly, but were so raw with fear and sorrow that Yao could see many faces crinkling in sympathy _._

 _“You won’t be.”_ Arshad said firmly _. “I promise. You can’t let them catch you, though. If they get any information out of you, about the resistance, about me, we’ll be doomed.”_

 _“Don’t tell them a thing…don’t tell them a thing,”_ Yao mumbled in return _, “But…I don’t think I can hold out that long. I’m n-not strong at all.”_

 _“You are. I know that you’ll be able to do what you need to do to stop them from learning anything.”_ Arshad paused for a moment _. “Are there any alternative exits-”_

 _“Don’t worry about it.”_ Yao interrupted him _._ His voice had taken on a hollow, still quality. _“I…I know what to do now.”_

Without another word, the sound of the connection being cut met their ears. The recording was over.

Octavia raised an eyebrow at him.

“So, in early Augynt, the Union became aware of your espionage. You had that conversation with Arshad Teymouri, and then you…disappeared. Nothing was seen or heard of you for another 13 months, at which point you were ‘located’. I personally find your final statements confusing. Can you elaborate as to what you meant?” Yao tilted his chin proudly.

“I knew that the information I had was very desirable to the Union. I knew that if they got their hands on it, Arshad and the rest of the rebels could be doomed. I was determined not to ever let them know what I knew. So, to stop the Union, I destroyed every file and data drive which I had had in my apartment, fried my laptop, destroyed the radio, and tried to commit suicide.”

“And it didn’t work?”

“Obviously not.” He retorted. “Union soldiers came inside the building looking for me. If they had come in just a minute later, it would have.” Octavia nodded, something like sympathy in her eyes.

“The next time that you were seen was reportedly when you met Admiral Ayshe Kartal during Operation Parasite. Given the details of that mission, can you please explain exactly what you were doing in the 13 months of your absence?”

* * *

 _Onboard the SS Arbiter,_  
Orbiting Yan,  
8 th Augynt, 4503CC

_ DAY 001 _

_Yao groaned as his eyes finally fluttered open, not processing where he was at first. The room he was in was clinical and almost unnaturally clean. He seemed to be on it’s floor. The ceiling and walls were completely bare, and it wasn’t until he noted a flat, metal door set into one wall that he realised the room wasn’t completely bare. His head ached. What did he remember?_

_He remembered…another room? A normal prison cell…and before that…_

_Burning files……the radio….a car…a running motor…_

_A running motor…oh._

_OH_

_He sat up, but almost immediately slumped down to the floor again as dizziness overtook everything. His head ached, his lungs ached._

_He had tried to die. He had tried to die because they were coming for him. He looked at the walls around him. The walls of a cell, he realised. He hadn’t been fast enough. Yao looked down. He was dressed in a loose, dark grey uniform, but the idea that someone else had dressed him was hardly as disturbing as knowing that he was now in the hands of the enemy._

_He felt his skin crawl, and knew that someone was watching him. He turned to look at the door again. Someone was peering in at him through the small, thick pane of glass near the top. There was a loud metallic clang, and the door swung open, revealing a surprisingly tall man, Yanish like Yao, wearing the dark, tailored uniform of a Union guard._

_The man strode over to him, face pleasant but gaze sinister. He stopped just in front of him, and smiled coldly._

_“Ah, you are finally awake, I see. How is your head?” Yao stared at him, shrinking away slightly. The man grinned. “Ah, it does not matter. Welcome! It’s a delight to have you onboard with us. I hope to have many interesting conversations with you in the future. I am Wuhan Ma.” He bowed slightly. “And you are Yao Wang, as I have been told.”_

_“Where am I?” Yao asked. Wuhan smiled cruelly._

_“You, my friend, are onboard the SS Arbiter.” Yao blinked. He had never heard of it, but the name indicated something sinister. Wuhan knelt down, and ran his cold fingers down the side of Yao’s face._

_“I do hope that you and I grow to get to know each other. I’ll be…taking care of you, from now on. So, don’t worry; I’ll treat you like you deserve.”_

* * *

Octavia was silent, looking a little taken aback. “You were a prisoner onboard the SS Arbiter?”

Yao nodded. “Yes. I met Ayshe during the rescue mission in Septombre of 4504CC.”

“The average survival period on the SS Arbiter is about 4 months, yet you claim to have been there for 13?” Yao nodded.

“Yes, that’s correct.” It was the first time that he had really, properly admitted it. Somehow, it wasn’t as hard to say as he had expected it would be. Octavia blinked, staring at him. She seemed to believe him, and looked like she was about to move on to another question, when Ehsan stepped in.

“Do you have any evidence, save the testimony given by Ayshe Kartal and yourself, that this is true?”

Yao stiffened. Evidence? Of course he had evidence. His entire body was evidence of what they had done.

“If…if you would accept physical injuries as evidence…then yes.” He said slowly, falteringly. Yaretzi sat up a little straighter.

“If I may interject,” she said, “would these injuries that you refer to also tie in to the related concerns over your clothing?”

“…Yes, they would, I suppose.” Yaretzi seemed satisfied, but Ehsan clearly still wasn’t. His next words made Yao blanch.

“Prove it. If the injuries that you supposedly received while onboard the SS Arbiter are also your reasoning behind wearing long clothing, kindly demonstrate why this is the case.”

Octavia frowned at Ehsan. “I don’t think that’s necessary-”

“It is! How do we even know that he’s telling the truth, otherwise? Ayshe Kartal is one of his closest friends, after all-, I wouldn’t put it past her to lie for his benefit!”

“Testimonies are taken under an oath of truth-”

“Oh yes, because no-one has ever lied under oath before.”

“Do you have no faith in our peers to tell the truth for the sake of justice?”

“Not when there’s so much at stake, no.”

“Ehsan.” Yao interjected. Yaretzi had signalled to his guards to uncuff him when he had nodded begrudgingly. He’d been led down from the stand so that everyone could see him clearly, and removed his high-necked jacket. He put his still-gloved hands on his hips as Ehsan turned, looking annoyed until he caught sight of Yao. The Vice-General had a strong stomach, but he still went pale when he saw all of the scars, burns and other painful marks strewn across Yao’s arms, collarbones and neck. Octavia let out a shocked, dismayed sound, hand flying to her mouth as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

Yao turned his head to the side, tapping at the vicious scarring on his neck. The Yanish character 处罚 was marked into his skin. It meant ‘punishment’ – and every prisoner on the Arbiter was given it. “Is this proof enough?” he inquired. Octavia looked very pale. Ehsan himself looked shocked, but his gaze locked onto Yao’s hands.

“What about the gloves? I still say that it is possible that an audio recorder could be hidden there.” Ehsan said stubbornly. Octavia looked at him, shocked. Clearly, she didn’t believe that Yao needed to provide any more evidence. However, it was then that Yao’s sympathetic guard spoke up.

“As was previously stated, the prisoner has been closely monitored throughout his entire imprisonment. No audio recorders of any kind have been found on his person, or anyone else who has come into contact with him.” Yaretzi nodded at this. Ehsan remained stone-faced, though, and she sighed.

“General Yao, if you would remove your gloves, please.”

He was sorely tempted to just refuse, but he knew that if he didn’t do it willingly, he would be forced to, and he would rather do this on his own terms. Yao locked eyes with Ehsan, then Octavia, as he moved to stand in the middle of the space again, pulled off his gloves and held out his hands.

Teerapat, who had leaned forwards in interest, moved back, expression aghast. He could hear numerous other cries of disgust and horror. Ehsan looked like he was sorry that he had ever asked, while Octavia’s face had turned a delicate shade of green. The only person who didn’t react was Ayshe, who smiled sadly. She had seen it all before. He could see the questions swirling about behind their eyes, and sighed, deciding to just explain already.

“In mid-4504CC, my fingernails were removed, and flayed my hands in an attempt to make me give up information. I wear gloves both to spare everyone else from the sight of them, and to stop them from becoming damaged.” Yao said. He was almost scared by how cold and clinical his tone had become. He had a habit of trying to detach himself from the event, as if that would make it go away. Yaretzi nodded, very quickly.

“Yes, uh, very well. You may replace your gloves and jacket, if you so please.” He did as she said, resuming his place in the stand.

Yaretzi blinked, looking slightly nauseated, before nodding to herself and straightening up again. “Vice-General Karimi, you may continue the questioning.” Ehsan nodded, still looking very uncomfortable.

“Though it is highly likely that these injuries of yours were suffered while onboard the SS Arbiter, can you provide any proof that they were inflicted between Augynt of 4503CC and Septombre of 4504CC, specifically?” Yao’s mind blanked. However, he didn’t need to answer, as Raneem spoke up.

“Resources E and F.” she said, again fiddling with the laptop. A picture came up on screen, and even Yao blinked in surprise when he saw what it was. “Resource E; one of several resources collected by the Union after Yao was declared as a person of interest. It was taken from Union databases about three years ago.”

It was a picture of him walking in Beizaning, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being followed and photographed. He was wearing a simple, three-quarter length shirt, long pants and what he distantly recognised as his favourite pair of old boots. His hair was shockingly free of grey, and had been twisted up into a messy bun. He had a large messenger bag slung over his shoulder, bare hands – undamaged, as they had been back then – and a mildly anxious expression on his face. He was completely unscarred.

“It was dated as the 28th of Juillat, 4503CC.” Only a week before he’d been taken. No wonder he looked worried in the photo. He had suspected that he was getting followed for a while before he’d actually been captured. Raneem hesitated as the three judges all nodded at her to continue.

“Resource F; a photograph taken in the medical ward shortly after Operation Parasite. It is dated from the 11th of Septombre, 4504CC. It was taken from our own photographic database. It had been categorised under medical photos.” She shot Yao an apologetic glance, before she put the second photo up on the screen.

This one was much worse. He didn’t remember it being taken, but he certainly remembered what had been happening while it must have been. It was very shortly after the Arbiter – probably only a few days after they had arrived back from the liberation mission. He was the focus of the photo and-

He had never realised exactly how horrible he must have looked just after he got back. His condition got worse before it had ever gotten better, and the person in the photograph looked like a corpse. He was seated up on a bed in the photo, with his feet drawn halfway up to his chest. One of his feet – also scarred – was partially hidden underneath a blanket. His left arm was being held away from his body by someone out of sight, and his right arm was fully extended. Kabeeta, recognisable as ever, was tending to his right hand in the photo, which was little more than a twisted wreck of red and black.

The thin singlet and pants that he wore in the photo did little to disguise the deplorable state he was in. His skin was grey, and drawn taut across his bones. His ribs jutted out in a manner that made the most emaciated of refugees look well-fed. His spine jutted just as sharply through his skin, looking like a row of spines on his back. His entire body was just _too small_. Every limb was rail-thin, and looked susceptible to break under the slightest pressure. His hair, in this photo, bore the white streaks which made most misconstrue his age. All of the scars which he had just shown everyone were clearly visible on his neck and arms.

The most chilling part of the photo, however, was his expression. There were tears running down his face and chin, and his mouth was twisted in pain, but his eyes, though widened, were…dead. His emotion seemed to stop just short of reaching his eyes. It was unnerving, yet, as Yao knew, another common attribute of Arbiter survivors.

There were several people in the photo other than Kabeeta and Yao. Ayshe had her arms hooked around Yao’s thin chest – obviously trying to hold him still – while Helena was sitting near the foot of the bed, a case of medical instruments in her lap as she peered at his hand alongside Kabeeta. There was blood splattered across Kabeeta’s clothing and the blankets of the bed. Kabeeta’s hands, hidden by surgical gloves, were also drenched with blood.

There was silence as everyone took in the photo. Yaretzi nodded after a few minutes. “Thank you, Vice-Admiral Raneem, the evidence has been noted.” she said, “Vice-General Karimi, you may proceed with further questioning.” Yao sighed in relief when the photo disappeared from the screen, as did several others. Ehsan paused for a minute, looking through some notes that he had been writing, before standing and peering at Yao.

“Many methods of torture and manipulation are used on the Arbiter. Most often, methods are used to attempt to break down a prisoner’s resolve and encourage them to give up information. Can you name some of the techniques used on you during your tenure on the Arbiter?”

“Fucking hell.” Yao heard someone faintly mutter. He drew in a deep breath.

“Well…I……can I just list them?” Ehsan hesitated, then nodded.

“Beatings, whippings, solitary confinement, prolonged starvation, deprivation of light and water, mutilation, interrogation, psychological manipulation – most often using mentions of friends or family, injections of foreign substances, poisoning, flaying…there were quite a few.”

“Can you name what method, if any, was most likely to make you give up, or almost give up, information?”

“…which one…” he trailed off. There was one that he’d forgotten to name. He felt nausea creeping up.

“I…uh…” his voice was tapering off again. Panic seized him, and he clenched his hands into fists.

“Do you not know?”

“No…I do…”

“Which method?”

He closed his eyes. It was like it was happening all over again.

* * *

* * *

_Onboard the SS Arbiter,  
18 th Maarch, 4504CC_

_ DAY 221 _

_Yao cowered as Wuhan strode happily into his cell again._

_“Good morning, little Bù chén!” he crowed, sadistic grin in place. “I hope you slept well!”_

_Slept well. What a joke. With those high, screeching noises playing on maximum volume all night? Wuhan was trying to drive him insane, but Yao had just tuned out the noises. He hadn’t given any information up yet, even seven and a half months into this hell, and he didn’t intend on doing do because of a few loud noises. He glared at the man, who grinned back._

_“Oh, didn’t you like the pretty lullaby I was playing you? I thought it would be soothing.”_

_Yao forced a smile onto his skeletal face. “Oh, it was very pleasant. I was out like a light.”_

_Wuhan laughed. “You amuse me, little Bù chén, but no-one can survive on only an hour of sleep every day.”_

_“Perhaps I’ll be the first.” Yao murmured. Wuhan grinned again._

_“Perhaps you will be.” he suddenly clapped his hands together. “We’re going to be trying something different today, Bù chén! I got permission from our boss yesterday! I think this will encourage you to be a bit more talkative.” His smile was it’s usual, sinister self, but something about it today was darker…it was…satisfied…in a way._

_Wuhan slammed the door shut behind him, and the forced smile dropped from Yao’s face. He only ever shut the door if he didn’t want someone to interrupt what he was doing. The last time it had happened, he had whipped Yao so badly that his spine had been sticking through his back. Yao shuffled backwards, until his back hit the wall. Wuhan grinned when he saw this._

_“Ohh, is Bù chén scared?” he cooed, tone vicious. “Don’t worry. Today, you’ll help me out, regardless of whether you talk or not.” His hand lashed out, sending Yao’s head slamming back into the wall. Dazed, Yao could barely struggle when Wuhan seized one of his hands and dragged him away from the wall. Yao began to wriggle as Wuhan slammed him into the floor, forcing his hands into handcuffs behind his back._

_He yelped when the handcuffs slammed shut around his wrists. They were the worst kind; they had small razors on the inside, so that even the smallest movement would cause the blades to cut shallow grooves into his wrists. They weren’t sharp enough to outright slit someone’s wrists – Yao had tried to use them to kill himself three months ago. Nonetheless, they were still painful._

_Yao writhed around, stomach turning over in horror as he saw Wuhan draw a solid metal bar from his belt. Pinned down as he was, he was powerless as it swung towards his temple._

_He was probably only unconscious for a minute or so when he felt himself being shaken awake._

_“Come on now, little Bù chén. I want you awake for this.” Yao blinked blearily, raising his head slightly. He still hadn’t been gagged – whatever Wuhan was doing, he wanted the prisoners in nearby cells to hear it. He couldn’t understand what was happening. He was still lying on the floor on his stomach. The only real change was that the tops of his legs felt colder than normal._

_But then he felt Wuhan’s weight on him, and he understood._

_“No, no, no, no, no, NO, NO!” He began to scream as he felt Wuhan’s cold, rough fingers on his legs, pushing them apart. He struggled, but he had been thin and malnourished for months now, whereas Wuhan was healthy and strong._

_“Hush now, you’ll enjoy it.” Wuhan purred, running a hand down Yao’s side. That was the only warning he had before the man, the source of Yao’s pain for over half a year now, forced his way inside him._

_Yao screamed. Wuhan moaned._

_“Ohh…how has it taken me so long to ask for this? I should have just taken you long ago.” He hissed in Yao’s ear. He tried to wriggle free, but that sent pain shooting up through his bowels, and he sobbed. “Shush, shush,” Wuhan said again, “I want to have fun with this.”_

_And then he was moving, roughly slamming his hips forward and crowing in delight with every plea for mercy, sob, and cry of pain that raked itself free of Yao’s throat. His body shifted backwards and forwards slightly along the floor with every small movement that the man on top of him made._

_The pain was too much._

_It wasn’t the strongest, nor the most unbearable…but…it violated him. He was being torn apart on the inside as well as the outside now. He let out a choked cry when he felt blood running down the inside of his legs._

_I can’t… I can’t… I can’t… I can’t… I can’t… I can’t… I can’t… I can’t… I can’t…_ _I can’t… I can’t…_

_He was breathing heavily, gasping for some reprieve as the pain continued to take control of his lower body. He slammed his eyes shut, wincing._

_This will be the death of me._

_Not whipping or beating or anything else._

_I can’t… I can’t… I can’t…_ _I can’t…_

_He almost didn’t notice when Wuhan’s movements became more sluggish and uneven, or when the sadistic brute slammed his hips forward one more time and achieved ecstasy from Yao’s pain. He only came back to himself when the pressure inside him was suddenly gone. He shuddered when he felt the slickness on the inside of his legs. He knew what it was. Wuhan was leering at him as he undid the handcuffs._

_“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bù chén.” He said, giving himself a once-over as he turned and walked from the cell._

_Yao didn’t move for a long time after that._

* * *

* * *

He realised only when he had finished telling them that he was crying. He opened his eyes, slowly, carefully. They all looked like they were about to be sick. Octavia had turned grey.

Yaretzi turned to Octavia. “You may continue, Vice-General Papadopoulos.” Her voice was shaky. Octavia nodded, looking worn and upset as she stood and cast a look down at the notes which Ehsan handed to her.

“So…given the experiences you had on the Arbiter, a place in which psychological manipulation is very commonly used, would you agree that it is possible that you could have been somehow convinced to act against the resistance?” Yao felt tired to his bones. He couldn’t find it in him to argue.

“I would say that that is possible, yes.”

Octavia was silent, expression odd, and she waved away Ehsan as she walked closer to him.

“But, again considering the treatment that you suffered on the Arbiter, would you agree, also, that such a possibility is minimal, and that the torture inflicted on you was far more likely to have increased your loyalty to the rebel forces?” Yao looked up at Octavia in bewilderment. Ehsan was also staring at her in complete confusion.

“Octavia…what are you-?” Octavia was shaking her head, and Yao could see now that she was crying, had been crying the whole time.

“I-I can’t do this,” she sobbed quietly as she looked at Yao again, “I can’t.”

She met his eyes then, and he could see that, finally, she believed he was innocent.

Silence engulfed the courtroom as Octavia turned away from him, clearly no longer able to maintain eye contact.

“No further questions.” Yaretzi nodded.

“Does anyone else wish to make a statement on the claims, or the evidence presented?” she asked. There was silence again. No one spoke; Yao doubted that anyone was even daring to move.

“Very well,” Yaretzi said, “Teerapat, Jamael and I will be convening to determine the sentence.” She looked at Yao. “General Yao, you are dismissed.” All three of them stood and moved into a small room in the back as Yao’s guards led him back to his previous place.

The silence was stifling as Yao drew in several deep breaths and dried his eyes on his sleeves. He hadn’t intended to start crying, but, then again, he hadn’t intended to ever tell that story, either. It had happened years ago, after all, and that had hardly been the only time.

They all sat quietly as they waited for the trio to conclude whether or not he was guilty. One of Yao’s guards fetched him some water, for which he was grateful, and sat next to him rather than standing at attention. Just by looking at their faces, he could tell that today had exhausted them just as much as it had him.

They had waited for maybe twenty or thirty minutes when the doors opened again, and they returned. Everyone’s eyes were on them as they moved back to their places. The three exchanged a look, and Yaretzi stood, clearing her throat.

“The court has today heard the case against Yao Wang, and the evidence surrounding claims of espionage and treason. My fellow judges; Teerapat Sripuy, Jamael Laroussi and I have considered the available evidence and testimony made under oath.” She paused for a moment.

“We have concluded that the accused, General Yao Wang, is _not_ _guilty_ of the charges, and as such, we restore him fully to his position as leader of the resistance.” Yaretzi bowed deeply to all of them. “Thank you for your cooperation and poise throughout this investigation. It has been duly noted.” She nodded at his guards, who moved forward to, finally, unchain him. He rubbed his wrists when the handcuffs finally fell away. “The court is dismissed.”

The minute that those words met Ayshe’s ears, she leapt over the row of seating separating her from Yao and threw herself at him. He hugged her in return, burying his head in her shoulder as everyone else began to file out, and his friends gathered around him.

“You’re shaking.” Ayshe murmured. Yao laughed hollowly.

“What did you expect?” he asked. She smiled, oh so sadly, and hugged him again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she murmured as sobs began to move up through his chest again, “it’s over. This whole damned thing is over.”

“It isn’t.” Yao said as he finally forced himself to withdraw from her again. “The spy is still out there.”

Tino shook his head, ever so slightly. “They won’t be for long. I put Lukas onto it.” Yao looked up in surprise.

“I feel sorry for the spy, then.” He murmured.

* * *

_You should._

_Because_

_All I really needed in order_

_To find our little traitor_

_Was a day of everyone being distracted._

_Which you provided, Yao_

_So_

_Don’t worry_

_._

_._

_._

**_I know who they are now._ **


	36. The Extermination of a Rat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!!!! Early update time!! As y'all may have noticed, I have edited the total chapter count for this fic. There are only two more chapters after this one! Again, please subscribe to or bookmark this series so that you'll know when i finally get around to the sequel. 
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- The trial happened, and Yao was found innocent  
> \- Lukas now knows who the spy is
> 
> Also, a huge thank-you to everyone who commented last chapter! I was stunned to find how many of you were affected by that chapter. So thank you to everyone! I'm really glad you enjoyed it!
> 
> WARNINGS: Violence, some swearing, mentions of sexual assault
> 
> Please please please comment!!!!!!! It gives me LIFE.

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma  
29th Maarch

Lukas woke alone.

He had sequestered himself away in bed for an entire day, night, and another day again. He shared the small room with three other newer recruits, and had made the excuse that he was feeling very unwell. They had been concerned, but he had gently brushed them off, lain down, and begun.

The resistance was vast, and, combined with the typical vastness of even one person’s troubled mind, he had quickly felt lost. Once he had acclimated to the sheer volume of thoughts and memories around him, the cacophony had quietened to a static-like buzz.

And then he had started to search.

And, finally, after a day and a night and another day, he had found them. He had heard the treacherous thoughts inside their head, whirling and raging as they gleefully thought of Yao unjustly being found guilty. He had confirmed their own involvement when he saw their memories of planting a radio in Dana Milevski’s quarters, stealing information from their database, and using the audio recorder hidden on their hip.

But, most of all, he had seen their skill at deception. He had seen how they had twisted the heads of everyone around them, not only to convince them that they were loyal to the resistance, but also to manipulate the resistances’ very leadership; the strong and powerful figures who worked together to try and undermine the Union.

That manipulation…there was a lot of that.

He sat up slowly, relieved that he had been able to find his way back to himself. He glanced over at a mirror, sighing in relief when his own dark blue eyes stared back at him. Lukas rubbed at his temples as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and wriggled out. He had been relegated to the lower bunk, being a ‘newbie’ as he was. He stood, staggering slightly as the room spun.

In addition to finally finding the spy, he had heard and seen a few things that he wanted to forget.

He’d seen some of the horrible things which Yao had been recollecting during his trial, as well as the immense concern that one of the imprisoned pirates had for her sick friend. He had seen the worries and doubts that stormed inside one of the other bounty hunters’ minds.

He had also seen that Tino was far more worried about the prisoners knowing that he was a Bondevik than he had let on yesterday. Lukas sighed, burying his face in his hands momentarily. He shouldn’t have used his abilities in front of them, even if it was to save Matthew and help out their injured friend. Shaking himself a little, he removed his hands from his face. He could tell Yao and beg forgiveness later.

Lukas darted out of the tent, blinking a little. The sun was setting, and the sky was a vibrant mix of orange and purple. He’d been asleep a long time, clearly. He sucked in a deep breath as he continued forward. It was a wise move to raid the spy’s tent first; if he didn’t, there was a chance that they could get there first and destroy any remaining evidence.

This spy had already caused so much damage to the relationships between people in the resistance. He wouldn’t let them get away with any of it.

He crossed the dirt commons, heels kicking up red dust as he moved. Lukas knew the vague location of the tent, though it was hard to be sure. He had seen it’s inside, and was certain that he knew the room if he saw it. Discerning which tent it was; now that was the hard part. He peered around. They all had the same exterior appearance of drab beige tarpaulin and dark roping to tie them down to the ground. They varied slightly in size, but not hugely. Lukas closed his eyes, trying to orient himself like the spy had in his vision. He opened his eyes again, only to find that he had shifted left a little to face one of the tents in particular.

He cautiously moved forwards, opening his mind a little. Silence. There was no-one inside. He opened the exterior flap and peered inside, feeling his stomach jolt as he recognised the interior as that from his stolen memories.

He surveyed the room warily. The trial had only just concluded, and many people were nearby, waiting to hear the verdict. However, many more had resigned themselves to finding out through gossip eventually, and had chosen to return to their tasks, or their quarters. Though Lukas had found the tent empty, there was still a good chance that they would soon return. The lateness of the day didn’t help, and he silently cursed that it had taken him so long to wake up.

He observed the room. The spy held a high enough position that they had their own quarters. He scowled at that. It was infuriating to think that they had enjoyed all of the luxuries that the resistance could offer while simultaneously working to undermine it.

_Let the underminer become the undermined_ , Lukas thought to himself as he stood in the centre of the room and slowly turned in a circle. It matched what he had seen in his trance exactly, but the real trick was finding the evidence that he needed to warrant an arrest. If he remembered correctly, this rat hid their equipment in a slightly different place every day.

Drawing in a deep breath to calm himself down a little, he began to search.

* * *

Matthew sighed a little. Unlike people like Ayshe, he had never been privy to the more dark and private parts of Yao’s past. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but a long imprisonment and relentless torture, well, it hadn’t been his first guess.

He supposed that he should have expected something of the sort, given how Yao dressed, spoke and acted, but he had hoped that whatever had befallen their leader had been less severe. Even as he stood mulling over the events of the day, it seemed insane that he hadn’t expected it more. He had known about Yao’s cold exterior prior to his election, as well as how he had apparently changed immensely after his ‘disappearance’. There had been so many clues, and he had failed to put them together.

Hearing about what Yao had gone through, and seeing the long-lasting impacts on his body had left Matthew feeling nauseated. He shook himself a little, looking to where Yao was smiling sadly and talking to Tino. He would be fine. He always was. Matthew was certain that at least some of these details would get out. Dalisay was something of a chatterbox, and though Aelia Gabras hadn’t been present for the second half of the trial, he knew that she would be sharing some of the things she had learned anyway. Given her status as a matchmaker, he supposed that she would be gossiping about the relationship that Yao had with Arshad Teymouri.

Matthew hadn’t been overtly surprised to hear that, though Tino, seated next to him, had been wide-eyed and blinking in surprise throughout the whole thing. Even when Matthew was younger, he had heard the rumours surrounding the leader of the resistance and the bitter Lieutenant that he was so close to. He had spent some time gossiping with Abel about it, and debating whether or not they were actually dating. Apparently, even Yao hadn’t been sure of that.

He pushed himself off of the desk he’d been leaning against, and walked over to Yao. He had been mulling for a good hour or so now as others talked to the weary Yanish man. Yao looked up as Matthew approached, and smiled wanly.

“Are you okay after all of that?” Matthew asked, frowning in concern. Yao gently waved him off.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. It wasn’t easy to talk about, but it’s over, at least for now.” Yao hesitated a moment. “Tino said that Lukas is trying to find our real spy.” Matthew nodded. Tino had come by the old container late yesterday with a syringe of medication, a letter addressed to Matthew and an explanation of what Lukas was trying to do. Matthew had been lingering around, waiting for his brother to wake up again when Tino had showed up. Alfred had been half-conscious at a few points, and muttering a few, barely comprehensible words to him.

He hadn’t wanted to leave his brother – after all, he had promised that he would be there when he woke up again – but he hoped that Alfred would understand. He’d quickly given their sick friend, Arthur, the medicine, as well as a solution designed to keep him asleep for a while, ensured that they had sufficient food and water, and returned to camp. The letter had been his subpoena, and he remembered feeling his entire body go still with anxiety when he’d read it. Over the years, Matthew had learned to come out of his shell and be a real leader, but his anxiety was one thing which still refused to loosen it’s hold. Try as he might to avoid it, he had immediately begun to overthink the whole thing.

_Well, it’s over now, and Yao has been found innocent, as he should have been_ , Matthew thought. He was pulled from his reverie when Yao spoke again.

“So, what’s happened since I was put in holding? No-one actually bothered to explain anything.” Matthew blinked, but then it hit him; Yao didn’t even know that they had received an extra thirteen or so prisoners.

“Oh…uh, well, the friends of those four prisoners we took rescuing Elizabeta showed up.” he winced. “Octavia took them prisoner.” Yao sighed as Matthew hesitated. “One…one of them is my younger brother.” Yao looked up in surprise.

“Oh…that’s…good?” Yao seemed to be trying to read his expression. Matthew laughed, nodding.

“Yes, that’s good.” Yao relaxed a little, patting him on the shoulder.

“Well, it’s good that you two have managed to reunite, then.” He said. Matthew nodded, though he frowned a little, grinning sheepishly.

“Well…he did try to slit my throat. And I stabbed him through the leg.” Matthew admitted. He looked over at Yao, and almost died of laughter when he saw the shocked, vaguely disturbed look on his face.

“I hope all Rywanese families aren’t like you guys.” Yao said, sounding legitimately concerned. Matthew tried to stifle his giggles.

“It’s a long story.” Yao raised an eyebrow at this, and folded his arms.

“Enlighten me.”

Matthew sighed, but explained how Octavia had planned to kill them all, and how he and the others had rescued them and hidden them away in the forest. He broke eye contact as he explained that he had shot Nesset in order to save them. Yao sighed heavily.

“I’m not going to lie and say that you won’t face repercussions for that.” Yao said. “You killed him to save mostly innocent people, so you wouldn’t be imprisoned, but you still murdered one of our own. That’s suspension at least.” Matthew cringed at the disappointed tone in Yao’s voice. He had been suspended before – it essentially meant that he wasn’t permitted to go on missions or hold a weapon, and instead had to perform manual, menial tasks from anywhere between two weeks to eight months. “Still,” Yao continued, “thank you for saving them. You were doing what you thought was right, even though it meant killing someone. That takes resolve.”

Matthew nodded, rubbing at his arm. He hesitated. Yao had already been through quite a lot today, and he really didn’t want to add onto his troubles and concerns, but it felt wrong to keep it from him.

“Actually…there was something else…” he looked up again, continuing at Yao’s prompting. “They tried to escape, early yesterday morning. That’s why my brother and I ended up injuring each other. None of them escaped, and we got the situation back under control, but…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath, “we were only able to do so because Lukas got inside their heads, made them hear some loud noise. It got them to stop.”

Yao had gone completely still now, and Matthew reluctantly continued. “One of them figured out who he was.” Yao was barely moving, eyes wide. He opened his mouth to speak, made no noise, and closed it again. He rubbed his gloved hands together.

“That…that is very bad news.” He could tell just from Yao’s tone that he meant it. Matthew winced and looked down.

“I’m sorry, we should have stopped him-” Yao gestured for him to be quiet. Looking up, Matthew saw that Dalisay, who was standing nearby, was looking at them curiously. All it took was a sharp look from Yao to send her scurrying off. He turned back to Matthew, voice very low.

“Those prisoners are all bounty hunters and pirates. Most people of those professions live where?” when Matthew didn’t respond, Yao spoke for him. “They live on Reycass, which is right in the middle of the Union. Those people would have spent endless hours seeing the wanted posters for the Free Court royalty on gigantic digital screens in the middle of the city. They know exactly how much they are worth. They know exactly how much _Lukas_ is worth. I personally don’t believe that they would just forget that.” Yao sighed.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Matthew murmured.

“Don’t apologise. It does us no good now. I know that you saved those prisoners to set them free, but if they really know who Lukas is, and they know that he, in addition to the whole resistance, is here, they would go straight to the Union to turn in that information and collect the money.” He shook his head a little. “We can’t set them free.”

Matthew’s spirits were simultaneously sunk and buoyed. He had wanted to give their freedom back – after the injustice that they had suffered at the resistance’s hands, they deserved it. But at the same time…

At the same time, Matthew wanted to get to know his brother again. He wanted to feel like he had a real family again. He loved his friends, but there was something unique and special having someone who was your family by blood. Not to mention, some of his brother’s friends, such as the charming albino Gilbert, seemed like interesting and fun people; they were the sort of people that Matthew would have liked to be friends with as well.

He explained some of the other difficulties that they now had, such as Tino being known to them, and the Chalydrantis-stricken pirate. Yao took it in silently, nodding, though Matthew could see that he was a little distracted.

“I really am sorry. We never intended for them to find out about Lukas.” Yao’s sharp expression softened, and he put his hand on Matthew’s shoulder. It was more comforting than it should have felt, especially considering that Yao was shorter than him.

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault. It isn’t even Lukas’ fault. It’s a tough little problem, but I know that we’ll figure it out.” Matthew nodded, starting to feel a little better. He glanced over Yao’s shoulder, only to see Octavia, still pale and worn, looking at Yao as she packed away files and disks.

“I think Octavia wants to talk to you.” He murmured quietly. Yao raised his eyebrows in surprise. Matthew smiled a little and stepped away. Yao turned a little to look at Octavia, but neither of them could even take a step forward before a loud, rapid knocking sounded on the door.

* * *

_I’ve got it,_ _I’ve got it, I’ve got it, I’ve got it, I’ve got it, I’ve got it, I’ve got it, I’ve got it, I’ve got it_

Lukas ducked past several tents, lowering his head as a pair of girls walked past, talking to one another. He craned his head upwards, trying to see the building. Most of the people who had been waiting to hear the verdict had dispersed by now, but many others were still wandering around nearby. It had been over an hour since the trial had ended, but the only sign from inside had been Jamael Laroussi walking outside, seeing the crowds, and waving them away yelling, “Get back to your stations! You aren’t vultures.”

Lukas drew in a deep breath, readjusting the heavy bag on his shoulder. He had stolen it from the tent and placed any pieces of evidence that he had managed to find inside. There were several radios in there, and it was starting to get heavy. He glanced around. He hadn’t attracted any attention yet, but the building still had way too many people in front for him to enter undetected. He slipped past a few people, walking up near the doors. There was no real guard in front of the door, but there were a few armed rebels nearby who seemed to be trying to disperse the crowd. He cursed softly, readied himself, and strode forward.

_You can’t see me. I’m just another plain face in the crowd. I am unnoticeable and unworthy of concern._

He walked right past the vicious-looking rebels, and bolted up the stairs. Though his ruse had worked on the guards, he didn’t have the energy to influence the entire crowd. Several people noticed that he had gotten up to the doors, and many started to shout. He hurriedly knocked on the door, as loudly as the thick timber would allow, before he was dragged backwards by a guard.

“You aren’t permitted to go inside.” Lukas shook them off.

“Fuck off. I need to talk to someone inside.” He growled at them. The woman stepped back a little, looking a bit surprised that someone so non-threatening in appearance was so harsh. Her expression hardened, and she tried to pull him backwards again. He struggled, and, seeing no other option, slammed his elbow into her stomach. Winded, she let out a choked noise and staggered back a little. Upon seeing this, another guard bounded up the stairs as Lukas frantically knocked on the door again. He delivered him a swift kick to the groin when he tried to grab Lukas by his hair.

Staggering away and breathing deeply, Lukas flattened himself against the door. His vision was spinning – he was tired and hungry. He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything, technically, in well over 48 hours. He rubbed at his temples, and knocked loudly on the door again. The first guard that he had knocked down had gotten back to her feet at this point, and seized his neck, knife in hand.

It was at this moment, to his immense relief, that the door swung open. A man in his late twenties, with golden skin and dark hair, was blinking at the scene in utter confusion.

“What in the system is going on here?” he asked, accent not immediately identifiable. The guard blanched.

“Lieutenant Colonel Sripuy!” she exclaimed, stepping away from Lukas and lowering her knife. Lukas looked at the man again. He recognised him now. Teerapat Sripuy – he was one of the judges. Teerapat looked at the crowd, raising an eyebrow. Lukas glanced behind him. They had gone almost completely silent, staring at the Lieutenant Colonel. He turned his gaze back to the guard.

“Kindly explain what is happening here.” he said, tone cool. The guard swallowed, but straightened up.

“This boy is trying to get inside.” She said. “He claims that he urgently has to speak to someone inside.” Teerapat looked at him curiously.

“Name?” he asked curtly.

“Lukas Christensen.” Lukas managed, rubbing at his throat where the guard’s knife had pressed into his skin. The man turned and spoke to the room of people behind him. Lukas heard his name said, and after a moment in which he was able to hear only low voices responding, Teerapat turned back to him, nodded, and opened the door further to let him in. The female guard scowled, but stepped back to let him enter. As Lukas moved past the Lieutenant Colonel, he heard Teerapat shout to the crowd;

“What are you all doing here?” he asked.

“They want to hear the verdict, sir.” The female guard murmured. Teerapat sighed, glaring at them.

“He’s innocent. Get back to your posts.” He responded, just before slamming the door shut. Lukas turned and surveyed the room as his system flooded with relief. Yao was standing near the front of the room, looking at him with surprise. Lukas felt Teerapat take his elbow and take him to the front, but he was too tired out to complain.

“Lukas.” Yao said quietly. “What did you need?” he drew in a deep breath and unslung the bag from his shoulder, dumping it on a nearby table, and emptying it. he saw Octavia stand up straight as several single-use radios tumbled out, as well as copied documents, and one spare AXO-549 audio recorder. They all stared at him in silence as he sat down on a chair, breathing heavily.

“I know who the real spy is.” he managed.

* * *

The room went completely still as Lukas took the time to catch his breath. Yao nodded calmly, though they could all see a sort of deranged, frantic energy resting underneath his normal expression. Kari peered at Lukas. He looked terrible; his skin was pale and peaky, there were dark bags under his eyes, not to mention, he looked as though he had somehow managed to lose weight in only two days. But his eyes were glittering with a sort of dark satisfaction.

Octavia stepped forward, looking at the equipment on the table.

“It matches what information we got from the canister.” She murmured, half to herself. “But…how on Nyma did you know what tent to search?” Lukas went quiet, looking very much like a deer caught in headlights. Yao seemed to be thinking carefully. He turned to Lukas.

“Is it anyone in this room?” he asked quietly. Lukas shook his head.

“No.” he said. Yao nodded.

“Well, I trust every person in this room to a fairly reasonable degree, so I guess it’s about time I explained this.” Lukas understood what Yao was doing long before Kari did. His eyes widened, and the colour vanished from his features.

“Yao…” he tried to interject. Yao brushed him off, and turned towards Octavia.

“Well, for starters,” he paused, gesturing between the two of them “Lukas, this is Octavia Papadopoulos. Octavia, this is Lukas Bondevik.” Octavia spun around so fast that Kari swore she heard her neck crack.

“Bondevik…?” she spun back to face Yao. “How…? How long has he…?”

“About six weeks by now.” He explained simply. Octavia looked stunned as she turned to stare at Lukas as if she was trying to commit his face to memory. She wasn’t the only one who looked shocked. Ali had just about fallen over, and Teerapat and Jamael looked absolutely flabbergasted. Matthew, Kari, Elizabeta, Tino, Yaretzi and Mohammed, of course, were unsurprised, as they had already known. Ayshe looked floored, and she spun towards Yao, tone accusatory.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” she asked, sounding a little hurt. She had obviously noticed how many of them had failed to react. Yao winced.

“I didn’t want to risk it while I was still in a cell.” He said. “If I hadn’t been, I promise, you would have been the first person I would have told.” Ayshe looked a little less wounded after hearing that, though she too seemed fascinated by Lukas. Kari, however, was not happy about the situation.

“Yao! I thought you told us that it was necessary for us to keep his presence here completely secret!” she said, tone vicious. Yao nodded.

“That I did. But considering that our spy is finally within our grasp, and a group of Reycausian criminals apparently know who he is, I think we can abandon that aim.” Lukas winced at the mention of the prisoners. Octavia blinked, looking momentarily distracted by that piece of news. Yao approached him, and leaned down so that his face was level with Lukas’.

“Who?”

* * *

Ayshe was gripping her gun so hard that she feared she would snap it in two.

She tried, desperately, to recall what Yao had said.

“Be discreet. Stay calm and wait for the signal. We need a confession or there’ll be a huge outcry.” She exhaled deeply. Stay calm. After hearing Bondevik’s explanation? She wasn’t prepared to stay calm – she wanted blood.

Matthew, leaning on the wall beside her, frowned at her a little.

“Are you alright, Ayshe?”

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” She responded, teeth gritted. Matthew winced at her tone.

“You’re trying to withhold a murderous rage, aren’t you?”

“Obviously!” she snapped. “When do I ever describe my mood as _perfect_?”

“Never. That’s what tipped me off.” Matthew deadpanned. He sighed. “Listen, I know that you’re angry. I’m angry too, of course I am. He gave me a whole lecture about division within the resistance not even four weeks ago! I want to take down this traitorous scum just as much as you do.”

Ayshe smiled grimly. “Impossible. Are you telling me that you also want to dismember him and make his corpse a practice dummy on the shooting range?”

“Sounds divine.” Ayshe had to grin at the vicious determination in Matthew’s eyes as he said it. He had some sort of neck injury which made him flinch every time he tried to look in any direction but straight ahead, but she knew that she could count on the captain to have her back if their little traitor turned out to be a runner. Her smiled slipped a little. “I know that you’re just as committed to catching him as I am…it’s just…this isn’t just hatred, it’s loathing. I could never forgive him for what he’s done, especially to Yao.”

Matthew nodded. “It was hell listening to him in that courtroom earlier.” Ayshe nodded in agreement.

“I knew about everything he talked about, but it was hard to hear it from him.” Matthew shifted, face showing how upset he was.

“Even that last part?” he asked, voice very quiet. Ayshe looked at him. His eyes were full of anguish. She nodded slowly.

“Yes, even that. I helped Kabeeta run medical tests when he was rescued.” Matthew winced, shaking his head a little. Ayshe hesitated a moment before daring to ask. “Have…have you ever had an experience like that?” Matthew looked at her.

“I had an ex who tried.”

“What did you give him for his troubles?”

“A broken sternum, fractured skull and, if my sources are to be believed, total infertility.”

“ _Respect_.” Ayshe fist-bumped him. “Let’s agree, if we ever run into ‘Wuhan Ma’ or your creepy ex, we won’t give them the opportunity to repent.” Matthew nodded, grinning viciously.

“Sounds marvellous. We really should hang out more.”

“We really should.”

“Guys!” Elizabeta hissed at them from a tent about ten metres away. “Concentrate! The operation’s starting!” Ayshe nodded, ensuring that the safety on her gun was turned off as she turned toward the entrance of the tent. All of the exits had been covered, so that their rat had no chance to slip out of their grasp. She looked up as she heard footsteps. It was Yao, who had managed to calm down immensely and stop throwing curses since they’d heard Lukas’ story.

He met her gaze as he approached the entrance, and smiled slightly. Ayshe felt her stomach twist a little. He gave a small, mock salute, like they had always done in the past, and moved inside. Yao had taken Tino in with him as backup, though the general hope was that no bullets would fly in the whole encounter. Ayshe shuffled to the left a little, sticking her head inside as a voice sounded out.

“So, how did the trial go?” It was Aelia Gabras’ voice. Ayshe could see that everyone’s eyes were on their work. None of them had even realised that it was Yao. Judging by her question, they also didn’t yet know the verdict. Ayshe saw Yao raise an eyebrow, before deigning to respond.

“Very well, thank you Vice-General Gabras.” Aelia spun around on her chair, blinking in shock.

“Oh! General Yao! So, I presume that this means you were found innocent?”

“As a child. I’m sorry to disappoint you so, Gabras.” Aelia looked taken aback by his sharp and blatantly mocking tone. Yao was normally far more civil, but Ayshe knew that the trial, in addition to recent revelations, had worn him down completely. He was probably just wanting for this day to be over already, and Ayshe couldn’t argue with him. She turned her attention back to the situation at hand. Aelia’s words had drawn all eyes towards Yao, some looking shocked, others vilified, and some delighted.

“I apologise for not attending the second session. Did anything interesting happen?”

Yao shrugged, “Just the exposal of some of my deepest secrets. You really missed some high-grade afternoon entertainment.” Aelia blinked, still looking a little put-off by his being there. She looked even more chagrined by his sharp words. Her gaze darted around uncertainly. Some of the other analysts in the tent looked uncomfortable, though Ayshe could distinctly see a few that looked like they were having the time of their life.

“Sir, if you don’t mind my interruption, does this mean that you’ll be returning as our commanding officer for battlefield analysis?” one rebel asked. Yao looked over, a little surprised.

“It does, yes.” One of them whooped shamelessly. Aelia gave them a sharp look, but Yao smiled a little as the rebel sat back down again, grinning without remorse. Aelia huffed quietly, rearranging some papers on her desk.

“So, what brings you here, Yao? I would have expected you to be celebrating or relaxing. You do look rather sleep-deprived.”

“I’m always sleep-deprived.” Yao deadpanned, frowning a little at Aelia. “I’m here for a very specific reason.” He said, turning towards someone who had been watching the interaction very closely. “Tino, if you would.”

Tino had gone into the tent a few moments after Yao, and had been dressed in a full-length, olive drab coat which he adored. He looked calm and unassuming, which was why it must have been such a shock when he drew a machine gun from inside. Ayshe heard several people shouting in panic, and saw many of them backing up suddenly. Yao was grinning, and the manic glint in his eyes didn’t seem to be very reassuring to the crowd of people inside.

“You see,” he said, “my trial actually concluded about three hours ago. Since then, I have not been celebrating _or_ relaxing. I’ve been looking into the latest number one suspect,” he folded his hands behind his back, “which you just so happen to be.” before the rat could so much as splutter in feigned confusion, Yao strode forward, seized him by his dark hair, and hauled him towards the exit. Everyone inside the tent seemed to be completely perplexed, and none of them even raised so much as a hand to offer assistance as the traitor was dragged along the floor by his hair. Yao stepped back outside, into the darkening night, and dumped him on the ground, mouth curling into a blood-chilling glower. Ayshe regarded him with the same disgust and hatred as they surrounded him, and directed the barrel of her gun so that it was pointed directly at his heart.

Zev Batbayaryn.

Ayshe wouldn’t have even been able to vocalise how much she wanted to gut him like a fish in that moment. She could feel loathing coursing through her veins as it sent her heart and body thundering full of energy. Her knuckles were starting to turn white as she tried to overcome the urge to shoot him into tiny pieces and set each one on fire. Yao, however, looked completely emotionless. It might have lured someone else into a false sense of security, but Ayshe knew better. Yao’s periods of disconcerting calm were often followed by bouts of extreme anger and destructive behaviour. Batbayaryn was about to get torn a new one. She grinned at the idea.

Her grin faded a little as people started to flood out of the tent, and Ayshe could hear Aelia yelling at Yao.

“What the hell? You can’t arrest him without evidence!” Yao turned to look at Aelia, expression blank and detached. He looked almost dead, and it clearly freaked out Aelia, as her voice faded away and she stepped back a little.

“Lukas, the bag please.” Yao asked, tone just as cold and clinical as his expression. Lukas handed over the large bag he had stashed the radios and recorders into. Without breaking eye contact with Gabras, Yao upended the bag and sent the equipment skittering across the packed red dirt of the ground. “There’s our evidence. He isn’t just our number-one suspect,” Yao knelt down, looking directly into Batbayaryn’s eyes, “he’s almost certainly our little rat.”

Aelia started to object again, and this time, Octavia spoke up.

“Shut the fuck up, Aelia.” She spat. “Unless you want to get investigated as well.” Aelia looked stunned. Octavia was pale, and nearly shaking with anger. She had been in a state of shock after Lukas’ explanation of Zev’s plan. He had spent months and months gaining her trust, and when he had gained enough, started to plant ideas in her head. He had done all sorts, from bringing up dissent and division that wasn’t even really present yet in their ranks, to using flattery, empathy and straight-up lying to eventually convince her to go after Yao. The distraction had helped to steer any suspicion away from him, and had simultaneously split the resistance in two. His plot with Dana Milevski had sown the first true seeds of doubt in Yao, and it had worked to fruition.

The reason he had failed, according to Lukas, had been that even Zev didn’t know the details behind Yao’s past, and wouldn’t have anticipated that he would be found innocent. He had also not intended for the existence of the spy to ever become public, which had failed after the canister – which had been intended to be a total suicide mission (and would have been, save for the ingenuity of both Aminata Nasrin and young pilot) – had been recovered. He hadn’t leaked nearly as many files as they had thought, because he did the majority of the damage by manipulating a powerful figure – Octavia. However, he never would have expected that Yao would fail to inform Octavia of the arrival of a royal figure in the resistance. It had been Yao’s instinctual caution which had stopped the entire resistance – and especially Lukas and Emilia – from being hunted down and murdered.

Yao regarded Zev a moment longer, then nudged the devices at his feet. “I know that these belong to you.” Zev stared back up at him, expression hateful.

“Oh? You really think so?” he asked, tone sharp and angry. Yao smiled, expression sinister. Ayshe grinned. She knew what was coming.

“I do think so, since they were found in your tent, and have your fingerprints all over them, not to mention that we drew audio files, and they’re all of highly important meetings that you were present in.” Zev leaned up a little, curling his lip.

“You can’t indict me without a trial.” He said, tone victorious. Yao cocked his head to the side.

“Actually, I can, because not only do we have physical evidence of your crimes, but, according to my friend here,” he gestured to Lukas, “your thoughts and memories also reek of treachery.” Batbayaryn looked over at Lukas, understanding dawning on his face. Lukas stared him down. Finally, Zev turned back to Yao.

“So, you caught yourself a little Fynknian royal. Good work.” He spat, loudly enough for most of the people around them to hear. “But here’s the thing,” he paused, expression twisting into something smug and cruel, “it’s not treachery. I was never loyal to you in the first place.” Yao moved, evidently to hurt him, but never got the chance.

Octavia got there first.

Her boot slammed into his face with so much force that Ayshe was surprised that Batbayaryn’s head didn’t leave an indentation in the ground. When she drew her foot away, his nose was clearly broken, and there was blood spilling all over his face and neck. She paused, regarded him, and then slammed her foot into the side of his face. A sharp crack emitted from his jaw, and Ayshe knew immediately that it was broken. Batbayaryn yelped in pain, but Octavia wasn’t done. As he attempted to shove her foot away with his left hand, she looked at him with disdain, and pinned his hand flat on the ground. Without missing a beat, she pressed her other foot to the underside of his fingers and pushed them up, up, up, until they were pressed backwards against the back of his hand, and he was nearly screaming in pain.

Octavia staggered back a step, looking at him with loathing. He opened his mouth to speak, but Yao cut him off, muttering a short _“walk him to a cell”_ to Elizabeta and Ali. Octavia held a hand up, however, considering the disgraced major on the ground.

She circled around him once, then strode towards his legs. Octavia dropped to her knees and drew a knife from her belt. To the astonishment and confusion of everyone surrounding them, she then pulled one of his shoes off. Yao himself even looked surprised. Their unasked question was answered a moment later, however, as Octavia plunged her knife into the back of his ankle and tore it outwards, immediately severing his Achilles tendon.

“If I may correct General Yao.” She said sharply as she stood, turning to Elizabeta and Ali, “You can _drag_ him to a cell.” Without another word, she threw the soiled knife down next to his whimpering, beaten body, and strode off.

* * *

Yao didn’t dare to seek out Octavia for several more hours. He spent a good twenty minutes walking slowly around the perimeter of the camp, considering the day’s events, before he had talked himself into confronting her. The last face-to-face conversation that they had had was when she had him arrested. He didn’t count the trial, as that was interrogation. By that logic, however, he probably shouldn’t have counted his arrest, either, as that had been her accusing him of a crime. He sighed.

After Octavia had stormed off, they had taken the now very injured Batbayaryn into custody. Given the overwhelming amount of evidence, he had been stripped of his position. The entirety of headquarters probably knew that he was the spy by this point. The only real high-point of the day had been the reactions from Yao’s friends and supporters when they saw him after he was exonerated. Vlad and Kristian had decided to come running at him, full speed, and tackle him into a hug. He’d almost gotten elbowed in the face, but it had been a very sweet gesture.

He had been quite chagrined to find that one of the most ‘interesting’ facts about Yao, according to the rebel masses, had not been his survival of the SS Arbiter, nor his previous relationship with Arshad. No, what most of the rebels had been fascinated by was the fact that Yao was only 36. He had spent almost an hour trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes as numerous people approached and asked if he was _absolutely certain_ that he wasn’t 40 yet. It had been funny at first, but he’d soon resorted to death-glaring at people to make them go away, which proved rather effective.

Yao glanced around as he approached Octavia’s tent. The area was quite empty. As he understood it, someone had tried to ask her about Zev, and had, of all things, a toaster thrown at her. Octavia clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk, so everyone in the vicinity had cleared out – many of which had done so to either celebrate the court decision or Zev’s exposure and capture. Yao had only stayed at the revelry a while before he could no longer bear it, and had left to be alone. Perhaps, though she didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk, Octavia would tolerate his presence.

He paused, standing just a few inches from the entrance flap. Octavia had long hated the idea of anyone walking in unannounced, so she had all flaps tied down permanently. There was a small bell hanging outside, and Octavia had made it clear that it was to be used. Feeling a little silly, he reached up and rang the bell. He heard her footsteps before he saw her. She began to speak as she approached the flap.

“For the last fucking time-” she tore the entrance open and froze when she saw Yao. Her face was pale, and she had definitely been crying. She opened her mouth and closed it again, looking shocked. Yao bowed his head a little, unable to meet her gaze.

“Do you mind if I come inside?” he asked gently. She stood, still frozen for a moment, before she seemed to come to her senses, and nodded. She stepped to the side, holding the flap open. Yao ducked inside, and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as she closed the flap and moved to stand in front of him, arms folded.

They were both completely silent for a few moments, before Octavia broke the silence to speak.

“Are you going to gloat about being right?” she asked, voice very small. Yao blinked in surprise.

“I’m not sure that I’ve ever been known for gloating, but no, I am not.”

“Well why not? Not only did I accuse the wrong person of treason, I trusted the _real_ spy like a fool.” Her voice was faltering a little, and Yao could see that she was starting to cry again.

“We had no idea that Batbayaryn was the spy, Octavia, there’s no way that you could have known. He wasn’t even remotely a suspect.” Yao said. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have trusted someone with such a lower position, then,” she said, sniffing, “I gave him information that he never should have known.”

“It’s not bad to trust someone younger and less experienced than you.” Yao said. “If I didn’t do that, I would have almost no friends. Most people my age are already fed up of me.”

Octavia huffed a small laugh, shaking her head a little. They were silent again, before Yao spoke up.

“He’s locked in a secure cell, and will have a guard at all times. The amount of evidence against him is overwhelming, so a trial isn’t necessary.” He said. “With Lukas’ help, we should find out exactly what he leaked to the Union.” Octavia nodded.

“So…Bondevik.” She said. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me he was here.” Yao blinked in shock.

“You…are?”

“I told Batbayaryn far more than I ever should have. I could have accidentally slipped that to him. If I had, we’d all be finished.” She said grimly. Yao nodded a little.

“I suppose so. Right now, I’m just trying to dispel the rumours that he and his sister are in fact, here. The ruse likely won’t work, though, so it might be better to just hope for discretion where they are concerned.” Octavia looked up.

“Are you certain that there are no other spies?” she asked. Yao nodded.

“Lukas checked. Batbayaryn was working alone.” Octavia nodded slowly, turning away. Silence again engulfed the room.

“I just can’t believe I let him manipulate me like that.” She murmured. Yao looked at her, and saw that she was crying in earnest again. “I mean,” she hiccupped, “I was so stupidly trusting, I didn’t even begin to suspect that he could be a traitor. I’ve been a terrible leader these past few weeks.”

“Octavia-”

“No! I have been. I put faith in my seedy underlings, when I didn’t even trust you! I acted out of panic. I ordered a group of innocent prisoners to be killed just because I was so desperate to keep the resistance under the radar like you do. They would all be dead if Matthew and the others hadn’t intervened. I…” she trailed off for a moment, closing her eyes as more tears spilled down her face, “…I put you through hell that you didn’t deserve. I didn’t trust you and I humiliated you and _I am so, so sorry, Yao._ ” She was openly sobbing now, and pressed her hand to her face, shaking.

“Hey, no, no, no,” Yao said as he approached her, pulling her hands down gently, “don’t apologise. Octavia, you did something which many leaders don’t have the gall to do.” She looked at him, completely perplexed, as he continued, “you had the courage to question authority. You challenged the set ways of this resistance. You might have been pushed to do so under false pretences, but that doesn’t matter. You didn’t stand around absently while suspecting that something wasn’t all right. Even though you knew that there would be a huge backlash, you still went ahead and arrested me. You put the safety and integrity of the resistance above your own reputation or my influence. Octavia, don’t ever apologise. You did what you thought was the right thing for everyone here, and I can never fault you for that.”

She stared at him, still crying. She shook her head a little, and Yao put his hands on either side of her face to stop her. “Just agree with me for once, okay?” he said gently. She sniffed, but nodded.

“Okay then.” She whispered. She was still crying, but she met his gaze. “I’m still sorry, though. I’m sorry that I couldn’t recognise that the spy was right under my nose. I’m sorry that I was so open with classified information. I’m sorry that I unjustly accused you and frightened you. I-” she hesitated, “I’m sorry that you had to pour out all of your secrets today. And I’m sorry about what the Union did to you.” She breathed in shakily. “You didn’t deserve that. You were a good espionage agent, and you’re an excellent leader. You deserve this position, and I hope that I don’t see you leave it.” Yao stared at her, stunned.

She started to cry again, and he gave in, dropping his hands from the side of her head and wrapping them around her instead. She reciprocated his hug, pressing her face into the junction of his shoulder and neck and crying into his shirt. They just stood there for several moments, holding one another, and Yao relaxed, pressing his face into her should as well. No more words passed between them, but he knew that they had both been forgiven.


	37. Something We Can Call 'Progress'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh it's still unbelievable to me that we're here already! The second last chapter of this part!!!! Ahhhhhhhh. These last two chapters essentially act as a bit more resolution before the end of this part, and also sets up some important plot points for next time, so keep your eyes peeled for details!  
> Again, this does have a tumblr; **huntingthestarsandetc** , where I post updates and bonus information on the series. Plus, while I'm working out the bare bones of Part 2, I am probably going to put updates there too. That will be one of the first places to hear about part 2, so please check it out!!
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- the spy - Zev Batbayaryn - has been caught and imprisoned. He got mightily stomped on by Octavia  
> \- Yao is once again in charge of the resistance, and many important other figures, like Octavia, Mohammed and Ayshe, now know about Lukas.  
> \- The bounty hunters and such are still prisoners, Arthur is still sick, and Matthew and Alfred are aware of each others' presence now.
> 
> There are no warnings to give this time, but ppppppppppppppplllllllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee comment!!! it makes me so happy!!!!

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
Draak-Zafi Forra  
30th Maarch

Arthur groaned a little as he forced his eyes open. He honestly feared what day it was, at this point. He remembered only flashes of memory over what must have been the past few days. He recalled the rebels, trying to help him, in addition to screaming and some detached snippets of several conversations. Any time that he had felt close to consciousness, his body had protested, and he’d sunk into sleep again. He’d been awake only briefly what he hoped was yesterday. The others had tried to talk to him, but his muddled brain had refused to understand their words. He had ended up muttering in response, probably in his native Pyndaphian. Feliks had tried to talk to him in said language, but all that he had understood and remembered had been something about Alfred having been stabbed.

Now, though, his body finally seemed ready to let him remain awake for more than a few minutes at a time. He forced himself to sit up a little, rubbing at his neck when he felt a low, stabbing pain pass through it. He recognised the sensation; needles. He’d had something injected into his neck, clearly. Feeling his apprehension spike, he slowly lifted one hand up to his head. The wool cap which Colin had given him was missing. His rapidly greying hair was on full display. He could hear low murmuring somewhere to his left, and turned towards the source. Roderich was speaking to Gilbert, Feliks and Matthias in a low voice. Mei, Leon, Tori, Francis and Vash were sitting nearby, listening. Alfred, from what Arthur could see, seemed to be asleep, as were several of the others.

He looked around a little. They didn’t seem to have a guard of any sort. He gave a low sigh. The noise was evidently enough to draw their attention. The moment that Mei saw he was awake, she let out a shriek, leapt to her feet and vaulted over several of their friends to get to him. Her hug nearly crushed his ribcage in, but he couldn’t have ever held it against her. She was sobbing as she buried her face in his shoulder. He smiled, a little sadly, and hugged her in return.

“We thought you were going to die.” She sniffled, drawing away and wiping her eyes.

Arthur smiled wanly. “No, I’m tougher to kill than that.” He croaked.

“Clearly.” Roderich said. He was scrutinising him. “How long have you had Chalydrantis?” Arthur sighed. He had expected this to come. He didn’t even have to look at Roderich to know what he was probably feeling. Arthur was slowly dying of the same disease that had killed Roderich’s mother, yet he had never gone to his friend for help. No doubt, Roderich was feeling a little betrayed.

_Strange,_ he thought _, I don’t normally think of people as friends. I suppose he would be, wouldn’t he?_

Arthur did the maths in his head “About five years now.” Roderich blinked in shock, and Mei’s mouth actually fell open.

“Wha-? How is that possible?” Roderich asked. Arthur shrugged.

“I was diagnosed a few days after I turned 19. I wasn’t able to afford any treatment at first, because I was so poor, so after a few weeks, I left my job and sought something which paid better.” He made eye contact with Francis. This was part of what had broken down their friendship. “At first, it was slave-driving. After about six months, I turned to piracy instead.” Francis broke eye contact first, looking away. “It’s a profitable line of work if you do it right. I’ve always made enough money to continually buy medication.” He said. “That’s also part of why I kicked so many people off my crew a few months ago. I couldn’t pay them all and also afford my stupid injections.”

His crew were all staring at him, but they were nodding in understanding. Roderich spoke up again.

“The rebels have some Malthecs lying around. They had to give you two doses just to stop you from being on death’s doorstep.” He nodded a little, rubbing at his neck.

“Where is it?” Leon asked curiously. Arthur knew what he was referring to. Chalydrantis manifested in growths inside the body, like cancer did. In the case of Chalydrantis, unless you were in the very advanced stages, a person only had one. He sighed, before reaching up and tapping the top of his head.

“Right in here.” he said quietly. Mei looked distraught at the news, while Leon looked like he was having a revelation.

“So that’s why you have so many headaches.” He said. Arthur nodded. The others were silent, before Yael rummaged around in her bag and retrieved a small mirror.

“Well, you do look terminally ill, at least.” She said, handing it to him. He took it, and examined his reflection.

He resembled a corpse; he’d lost so much weight that his skin was pulled tight over jutting bones. His skin itself was ghostly pale and tinged grey. His eyes were sunken in and adorned with dark bags underneath (despite all the sleeping he had done recently). His hair was a mottled mess of grey and blond, and, as he noticed with a shock, his nails were covered in dark blotches. The disease was making itself even more obvious. He sighed and handed it back to her.

“I’ve always expected that I would eventually end up looking like this.” He said, resigned. Mei saw his defeated expression, and jumped to reassure him.

“Everything will be fine, though! We can just find you more of that stuff, and you’ll be okay.” He smiled softly at her determination.

“Mei, my body’s starting to grow used to Malthecs. It’s like when you overuse antibiotics. Your body learns how to work around it. Normal Malthecs probably won’t work on me for much longer than another year. It’s already getting harder for it to repair my body.” He gestured down at himself. “It only took two weeks off it for this to happen to me. It isn’t helping as much as it used to. Not to mention, I doubt that the rebels would be happy with a criminal like me draining their likely limited stores of it.” Mei was shaking her head, more tears budding in her eyes. He turned away. He didn’t deserve the amount of care and compassion that she had for him.

“Besides,” Vash said, tone sharp, “we probably aren’t ever going to get out of this place. The rebels will never let us go.” Arthur blinked, perplexed.

“Why not?” he inquired. Matthias cursed under his breath.

“I keep forgetting that you were essentially unconscious.” He said. “We’ll never get out thanks to Vash here.” he jerked his head towards the blond, who scowled at him.

“Please. This isn’t my fault, Matthias.”

“If you had kept your little musings to yourself, they wouldn’t be so paranoid about letting us go.” Matthias spat back. Arthur was confused beyond belief. Matthias saw his bewilderment and sighed, finally deigning to explain. “The resistance has Lukas Bondevik, and likely his younger sister Emilia too.” Arthur looked at them. “Vash figured that out when we tried to escape. If he had kept his revelations to himself, they would have probably let us go by now.” Vash glared at him.

“I still don’t think this is my fault.” He muttered viciously.

“You tried to attack him!” Matthias exclaimed. Vash scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I did not. I wasn’t trying to _attack_ him.”

“Then what were you trying to do?” Matthias sneered back. Vash opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t say anything. He closed it again, then shrugged. Matthias rolled his eyes at him. “Wonderful. The point is, given how much the little Bondeviks are worth, the resistance would not trust us to leave this place with that information. We are bounty hunters and pirates, respectively. They probably think, justifiably so, that our first move would be to report them and receive the reward.” They were all silent as Arthur processed the information.

“To be fair, he is worth 55 billion marks.”

“I _know_.” Matthias responded. “I could buy my own fucking skyscraper with that sort of money.” Arthur smiled a little.

“So, did anything else interesting happen while I was unconscious?” he asked.

“Oh! Well, Feliks and Gilbert were telling the truth about Alfred’s brother after all. They actually ended up stabbing each other, by accident of course. Alfred’s kinda down for the count now.” Arthur looked over at the tall blond again, and noticed that his leg was heavily bandaged.

“Noted.” He said.

“Also, that Lieutenant that we came here with? Tino fucking Vainamoinen. He took _Berwald_ down without suffering a single injury.” Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at Berwald, who was rubbing at a few small cuts near his eyes.

“Impressive, I must admit.” He said. Matthias nodded.

“Yeah, he was awesome and terrifying at the same time.” He said enthusiastically. Feliks was rolling his eyes.

“Even when he was threatening you at gunpoint?”

“Especially then.”

Feliks sighed, looking fatigued by his friend’s antics. Arthur, on the other hand, grinned. He was about to speak again when a jangling sounded from outside, and the doors of the container were swung open. A man walked in, and Arthur blinked in momentary shock. This must be Alfred’s brother. He smiled at them a little, though Arthur noticed that he was nursing his temples a little. He noticed their stares and sighed.

“Yeah, I’m hungover, okay? Stop looking at me like that.” Matthias cackled in amusement.

“What’s going on?” Antonio asked. The man – Matthew, his name was, if Arthur’s dodgy memory served him correctly – smiled a little.

“You guys are getting moved to a different cell block. You remember that I mentioned that you were ordered to be executed?” they all nodded, expressions sombre. Matthew clapped his hands together, looking delighted. “Well, the commander who ordered such a thing is no longer in power. Our proper leader is, and he knows that you guys are here. You aren’t going to be executed, I can promise you that.”

They all sighed with relief. Though they had been saved from getting executed, there had always still been a fear that they would be discovered and killed. It was good to know that that was no longer a possibility. They all stood and let Matthew handcuff them in a line, and all took a moment to appreciate the sunlight on their skin as they were escorted outside, where a truck was waiting. Arthur looked back, to see that Matthew had shaken Alfred awake. The blond, still looking a little groggy, was staring at his brother. Matthew hesitated, then approached the woman driving the truck, murmuring to her. She nodded, and started to load them into the back. Matthew and Alfred didn’t join them. The woman saw his confused expression, and elaborated.

“They just want a few minutes alone.” Arthur nodded, and relaxed on the seat as the truck took off.

* * *

Matthew ensured that the door was still open, and not about to shut and lock them both inside, and then slowly walked over to his brother’s side, and knelt down beside him. They were both silent, just drinking in the sight of each other. Matthew bit his lip and looked away, unsure of where to begin. His brother seemed equally lost on where to start, and scratched at the back of his neck. That seemed to inspire him.

“So…uh, how’s your neck? I’m sorry for stabbing you, by the way.” he said, flushing a little as he said it. Matthew smiled a little.

“It’s not too bad. I can’t look sideways, but other than that I’m fine. Sorry for stabbing you, too.” He said. “You still can’t walk on it?” Alfred gave him a dubious look.

“It’s been like 3 days. No, I can’t walk on it.” Matthew laughed at the grumpy look on his brother’s face, and shot him an apologetic look.

“Should’ve guessed, yeah.” He murmured. They fell silent again, before Alfred chose to break it again.

“What happened to you?” he asked, expression pleading for honesty. Matthew hesitated. He still remembered what had happened like it had been yesterday.

* * *

_City of Beledent, Rywan_  
20th Jaune, 4501CC  
(11 years ago)

_Matthew’s gaze darted around nervously as he was hauled along by the hand. The plaza was unusually quiet today, and those people who he could see looked downcast and distrusting. A sort of mutual anger or grievance tied them together._

_Though his parents had written both him and his brother off as useless and unintelligent, he was observant to almost a fault. He knew that something had been happening in the last few weeks. The city had been tense and high-strung since the start of the month. He didn’t understand why – his parents wouldn’t let him ever watch tv or read the news, but he had heard some things about the Free Courts. Whispers of invasion and murder had reached his ears from behind the heavy wooden door of his and his brother’s bedroom._

_He looked forwards again. His mother was tugging Alfie sharply along by the elbow. His arm was being pulled above his head in such a way that Matthew feared she would dislocate his shoulder. Alfie wasn’t crying – they’d had that habit yelled and beaten out of them before they were 7 – but his face was drawn, and Matthew could tell that he was upset. It was their father who was dragging Matthew forwards. He didn’t know why they thought it was necessary. He was 10 – only a few weeks off turning 11 – and even Alfie was 9. They knew not to stop and stare at the stalls. They had both been so good the past few weeks, and hadn’t even watched the news, keeping to their parents’ ‘no-television’ rule even though their parents let it blare all night in the living room._

_He winced as his father’s nails dug into his skin and dragged him forwards again. He and Alfie had both been brought down to the market plaza today. It was normally something which only either their father or mother went to, but today they had been given what he had initially thought of as a treat, and got to come along too. His mood had been high before he had heard his mother muttering that she didn’t want them to watch the tv (which she had left on) and start talking to them to ask ‘ridiculous questions’. He wasn’t sure what questions he would be asking; perhaps some about the 24-hour newsreel which had just started up. Their mother hated it when they made noise, and they had quickly learned to speak only to each other, or if there was some sort of emergency. Alfie had made the mistake last week of asking why there was so much violence on the tv while walking to the kitchen. Their mother had hit him in the head with a wooden spoon and locked him in the closet for three hours._

_Matthew looked around. The marketplace seemed oddly empty today. He couldn’t see several of the usual merchants – Birgitte and Samso and Dalla were all nowhere to be found. He missed them. Dalla was always very kind to him, though the disapproving looks that she never failed to throw at his parents had always confused him. The last time he had seen her, she had given him two small bars of chocolate for free. He and Alfie had shared them, and kept the wrappers hidden from their parents. She was one of Matthew’s favourite people in the world, save Alfie._

_But, looking around now, he couldn’t see her anywhere. Jorund, Yngvild and Tofa were also gone. Taking a deep breath, he decided to dare to ask a question._

_“Um, papa, where are all the merchants?” he asked, quietly enough that his dad could choose to ignore him. For once, his papa didn’t immediately move to hit his mouth, and glanced down at him._

_“They’re gone.”_

_He hesitated, before daring to keep asking. “Gone?”_

_“Because they were all Fynknian. They’re being sent back to their planet.”_

_“But why? They live here.”_

_“Because there are things happening on their planet, so the Union has asked them to go back.” His father said, starting to sound annoyed. “The Union doesn’t want them wandering around everywhere, so they’re being deported.” Matthew didn’t understand the word ‘deported’, but he supposed that that meant they were missing._

_“But-”_

_“No more questions.” His father snapped. The harshness which was usually present in his voice had come back, momentary tolerance vanishing, and Matthew cowered a little, nodding and resuming his silence. His mother, up ahead with Alfie, had stopped walking, and Matthew ducked out of his father’s reach and ran up to them. He gently pulled Alfie away and started telling him, as quietly as possible, what his father said._

_“But they’re the nice ones.” Alfie complained. “What makes them Fynkn-yun?” he butchered the pronunciation, but Matthew still understood, and shrugged. He thought carefully._

_“They all had like, white hair, didn’t they?” he said. “And blue eyes? Maybe that’s it.” Alfie nodded, looking happy._

_“Yeah! I bet that’s what it is.” he said. Their mother shot him a vicious glare for talking so loudly, and Alfie shrank back behind Matthew. Matthew was about to whisper something to comfort him a little, when the far end of the plaza exploded in noise. Matthew spun around, as did Alfie and their parents, to see a huge plume of smoke billowing upwards. He realised, it hadn’t just been an explosion of noise – it had been an actual_ explosion _._

_Alfie seized Matthew’s hand, looking frightened. He heard their father mutter something in Common Standard – which he refused to teach them – and immediately move towards the direction of the explosion. There was more noise coming from that direction. People had started to rush into the main hallway to see what was going on. There was a lot of shouting. Their mother seized Alfie’s other hand and grabbed at their father’s shirt. More loud noises sounded from the area of the smoke, and then many loud, bangs. Matthew blinked. He had seen just enough of the news to know that sound – gunshots. There were soldiers in the streets now, too, rushing towards the chaos._

_Matthew felt himself being pulled in the other direction, and complied, moving away. For a few moments, it seemed like the chaos would stay contained to that one area. But the street started to explode in noise. One woman lifted a large rifle in the air and screamed out._

_“Death to the Union scum!”_

_Then the street exploded into activity. There were people running and yelling and screaming, brandishing weapons at the soldiers who were packing the streets. The smell of smoke was spreading, and Matthew heard several more explosions, each one coming closer. Someone ran up the street from the area of the first explosion, and staggered past Matthew. He screamed, too frightened to remember the no-talking rule. They had pale skin and white hair, and so must have been ‘Fynknian’. They had clearly been near the explosion – part of their hair was singed off, and part of their arm had been ripped away, including several fingers. They were drenched in blood. Matthew staggered, trying desperately to keep ahold of Alfie as they ran from the violence. But the violence was all around them, and there was nothing they could do._

_He stumbled over something bumpy, and sobbed when he saw the gutted remains of a young woman. Alfie’s hold on him loosened, and Matthew swivelled around to look at the vast throng of fighting, screaming people. It was a mistake, and he only realised it as Alfie’s hand slipped out of his own._

_He stumbled and fell, blinking in shock as he tried to dodge a soldier fighting with a woman bearing a hunting knife, and finally staggered to his feet. He couldn’t see his brother or his parents, and felt panic surge up inside him. It reminded him of when he had accidentally been left in a supermarket by their mother. She had shown up, an hour later, looking very angry and not at all concerned, and hauled him home by his ear._

_He pivoted, looking around wildly, but to no avail. He was alone in a plaza of blood and violence. His family had vanished._

* * *

He had only really understood what had happened several years later. The Fynknian population in Beledent – which was quite sizeable – had been rounded up and imprisoned after the Expansion had started in the Free Courts just two weeks earlier. They had all been standing, tightly packed into a pen at the far end of the plaza, waiting to be forced to go home under the new regime. Someone hadn’t agreed with the idea, however, and had set off a bomb by the entrance. It had blown the gates wide open, and in addition to killing 23 of the prisoners inside and injuring over 100 more, had given the trapped people an opportunity to escape. They had seized it.

The rest of Beledent was very fond of the Fynknian population – their culture was interesting and they were good, honest, hardworking people. The roundups had inspired fury in a large proportion of Beledent’s population, and upon seeing the explosion, civilians had risen up and fought back against the soldiers trying to capture and kill the escaped Fynknians. The ensuing riots had lasted for over a fortnight and killed well over 1000 people. So many buildings had been vandalised, bombed or otherwise destroyed that Matthew had been unable to recognise any landmarks, and as such, been unable to find his family again. He shuffled a little, sighing, and started to explain.

“After the riots ended, I tried to find my way back home, but all of the landmarks which I recognised had been destroyed, so I was completely lost. I spent a good month scavenging for food and water in the plaza area. I met three siblings whose parents had died during the raids; Abel, Bella and Louis Anderssen. I became friends with them and we started to help each other out.” He leant back against the wall. “We met another Fynknian man who had managed to avoid the last roundups. He took care of us, but died a few weeks later. He had friends in the resistance, though, since the Free Courts always used to lend them so much help. They found us and took us to their old base.” Matthew shrugged. “I’ve been part of the resistance ever since.”

Alfred nodded, silently taking in the information. “So, what’s the resistance been like?” Matthew grinned.

“Amazing, obviously. Not to brag or anything, but I am a Captain already.” Alfred blinked, actually looking impressed. “All of my friends are here, and we get to do good by fighting the Union. I know that they brand us as terrorists, but what we’ve managed to do; releasing slaves, freeing political prisoners, saving people from suppressed groups, it’s worth the danger.” Alfred nodded again, and Matthew found the courage to ask. “What about you?”

Alfred sighed. “Well, I managed to stay with our parents. We ended up staying at a shelter for the displaced for about three weeks. I begged them to look for you, but they didn’t really do anything more than list you as missing and ignore it. We got home eventually, but we’d been robbed during the riots, so most of our stuff was gone. Our father got a job in helping with the clean-up efforts, and kept at it until we had a steady income. But,” he hesitated. “They…noticed the difference that you being gone had on our finances. They seemed to notice that they could save money by having less children. Not that they ever spent a ton of money on us anyway.” He said resentfully.

Their parents had been awful, it was true, and Matthew was unsurprised to hear that they hadn’t cared much about his absence. He gently prompted him to keep going.

“About eight months after the riots,” Alfred said, “we all went into Karkira City in the south by train. They took me to an orphanage downtown, handed me a small bag of my things, and left me there.” Matthew couldn’t stop the sheer shock on his face. Yes, neglecting and abusing your children was one thing, but consciously abandoning them? He felt nauseous as Alfred continued.

“I stayed there for about 5 years. They had a rule that no child over the age of 15 could stay in the orphanage. They knew I had nothing, but the place was getting overpacked anyway, so they handed me my identification papers, about 500 marks and a backpack and kicked me out.” Matthew winced. He despised the fact that orphanages did that. One orphanage in Jhobras had given the resistance free reign to take anyone who had been kicked out, or was soon going to be, simply because they had gotten too old to remain under their care. They’d acquired many new members from the place. Many were unmotivated, but just as many others were grateful for the fact that they were being given food and water, and participated in missions.

“The first thing I did was buy basic supplies.” He continued. “A blanket, water bottle, lighter, knife, etcetera. I eventually decided to pay the fee and get my ID papers authenticated into a proper passport. I was homeless for a while, before I decided to try my luck on another planet. I got a ticket on a shady rig going to Reycass. I spent time in a few different sectors, before I met Matthias, one of the others. He offered me a job as a bounty hunter, and I accepted. I’ve worked with him and the others ever since. The work we do isn’t as good or righteous, but they’re my friends, and they’ve helped me out a lot since Beledent.” Matthew nodded, and they both fell silent, looking down.

“I missed you so much.” He heard Alfred say quietly, sniffling slightly. Looking up, he could see that his brother had started to cry. “All through the riots and after. When I was in the orphanage and homeless and even when I started to work with Matthias and the others. I couldn’t stop missing you. You were a brother and parent mixed into one for most of my childhood. When you vanished…I blamed myself, because I couldn’t hold on to your hand tight enough.” Matthew shook his head a little.

“It wasn’t your fault.” He said, feeling tears prick at his eyes as well. “I missed you too. I consider my friends here to be my family, but I could never forget you. Not our parents” he added, “they were assholes. I know you’ve probably been wondering why I didn’t come to talk to you earlier…” he sighed shakily, “well, I was frightened. I always thought it was my fault that I’d gotten lost and…well, I hated the thought of you being left alone with those monsters we called our parents. I was afraid that you’d hate me.”

Alfred hiccupped, shaking his head a little as a watery smile spread across his face.

“Moron,” he hiccupped softly, “You know that I couldn’t hate you.”

Matthew gave him a watery smile, before shifting forwards and, finally, hugging him. He let out a shuddering sigh and gripped him tighter. Alfred let out a little sob and clutched him back, burying his face into Matthew’s shoulder as he shook.

“It’s okay Alfie,” Matthew whispered, “we’re back together now. I won’t let you disappear again.”

* * *

Kristian strode from the medical tent, mulling over what Kabeeta had been telling him. He had always known she was a genius, but the information about the altered medication was still a shock.

_It doesn’t just stay the effects of the disease_ , she’d said, _it actively attacks it. Of course, it’s still only experimental, but the results so far are very promising._

He shook his head a little. He would have to tell Yao about it, considering how helpful it could be to their cause, and in acquiring useful recruits. He smiled a little at the thought. It was good to know that the drama plaguing the resistance for the last few weeks was now put to rest. Yao had been found innocent (thank goodness), their spy was imprisoned and ready to be interrogated, and Ismeta had formally apologised for acting in such a cruel manner towards Vlad. They had talked long and hard about their relationship last night.

She finally seemed fine with it, and had apologised to Vlad earlier that day, taking back her harsh words profusely. It felt good for them to all be friends again, especially given the fact that he no longer had to hide the love that he had for his boyfriend from her.

However, there was one thing still niggling at the back of Kristian’s brain.

Lukas.

Rumours had spread like wildfire since yesterday that Yao had been aware that one or more of the Free Court royals was present in the resistance. Kristian believed it. Vlad’s interest in the Fynknian, not to mention how quickly Kari (who was normally sharp and taciturn to a fault) had befriended him, only reinforced the possibility. His age and general appearance also seemed to line up with what limited information there was available on the prince.

He quickly set off towards the shooting range. He had asked Lukas this morning to meet him there, and he was relieved to see that the Fynknian had actually shown up. He slumped down into the red dirt beside him. Lukas sighed.

“I assume that you’ve heard all the rumours.” He said simply. Kristian nodded, looking over at him. Lukas was only a year older than him, but sitting there in that moment, with the breeze pulling at his pale hair, he looked much, much older. Already, he was beaten and world-weary. Kristian didn’t doubt that that was how he felt. “Well,” Lukas continued, “they are true.”

Kristian nodded again. “I suspected as much. Kari never takes to anyone that quickly. It took her about six months to call me by my name, instead of just yelling ‘Alekseev!’” Lukas smiled a little at that. He didn’t smile very often, but Kristian had noticed that he had started to do it more often recently. “I must admit, you don’t act very regal.” Lukas shrugged.

“Good. I wouldn’t want to, anyway.” He said simply.

“You know, if you ever need to practice your _lahjof_ on anyone, I’m available.” Lukas actually really smiled at that, raising an eyebrow at him.

“First of all, you really need to learn how to pronounce Fynknian properly, because you absolutely butchered that. Second, thank you, but I promise that you’ll regret offering soon enough.” He teased. Kristian grinned.

“Probably, but what are friends for?”

“I…wouldn’t really know, to be honest.”

“I’ll make sure you do, then.” Kristian said. Lukas grinned at him again, and they leaned back, both enjoying the silent comfort of the other’s presence as the sunset stretched long and red.


	38. Not Yet Time to Let Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. The last chapter of Part 1! I can't believe I actually got this far. I started writing this story after seeing Star Wars, Episode VII, without any solid plotline or idea as to where it was going. I was in a mood for sci-fi, so I opened a word-document and went nuts. Now, about two years and a lot of rewrites later, and here we are. I actually feel proud of myself for getting this far. I technically won't be done with this until the editing process is completely over, but this is still a good day!
> 
> Before I go on, I would like to give my deepest and most sincere thanks to everyone who has read, kudosed and commented on this since it began. You guys have kept me afloat!! In particular, I would like to lend my thanks to Cone_of_Depression, Lunar_Iris, Trafulity, IsvsWorld, laiphya, Cassy_cass_can, AdharaSnow, Amina+Ismail, Izzie, Emma44126, Miss Kittyface and AI. You guys are the greatest, and the kind words you all left after each chapter made me smile and squeal like a 6-year-old. Thank you all, so, so much.
> 
> RECAP:  
> \- Arthur is awake and explained his condition to everyone else.  
> \- The group have been transferred into a different cell (not in the forest this time). Matthew and Alfred finally had their big heart-to-heart reunion.  
> \- Kristian now knows about Lukas, and is chill as hell.
> 
> SOME RECAP POINTS FROM EARLIER CHAPTERS WHICH MAY BE APPLICABLE HERE WINK WINK NUDGE NUDGE:  
> \- Tori somehow recognised Lukas (who knows??? such mystery???) - Chapter 24  
> \- Y'all should probs revisit some of that sweet sweet info on Chalydrantis - Chapter 31  
> \- Matthew def killed a guy - Chapter 32  
> \- The whole thingy about the bounty change to Lovino + the other four's profiles - Chapter 24
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support throughout this whole thing. It's been an honour and pleasure to write this, and wonderful to know that people actually enjoy my story! Updates about the editing process for this and the publication of Part 2 will be available via my tumblr; **huntingthestarsandetc** so keep an eye out! I'll be back with the sequel (hopefully) before September!

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
_Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma_  
_1 st Apryl_

“I understand,” Matthew said, bowing his head a little in respect to the trio of stern-faced judges in front of him. “Thank you.”

He left the room, sighing in relief. Though he had expected far worse of a punishment, the one he had received was still unpleasant.

 _Two months of suspension, starting today_ , he recited in his head. It wasn’t that terrible – especially given that his love of adventure had quelled a little in the last few weeks. He had been worn out by everything that had happened here, so maybe being grounded wasn’t so bad. He knew that he would be dying to go back on missions in just a few days, but for now, he was content.

He’d be back in action by the 1st of Jaune, anyway. Matthew sighed, looking around. He had been worried when he’d received a notice informing him that the hearing to determine his punishment for killing Nesset would be occurring soon, but it hadn’t been nearly as terrifying as he had feared. He had received the notice yesterday after he had finished talking to Alfred and gotten his brother to the new cell block where his friends were. Matthew was fairly certain that they had all seen the redness around both of their eyes, but to his relief, none of them had commented on it.

Their prisoners seemed to be settling well enough into their new cell. It was a vast improvement on the last two. They each had their own bed, and the long cell was divided into sections which could be barred off by curtains. The women of the group had seemed rather relieved about this. They also had a bathroom attached, which they had almost gone berserk over when Matthew had shown it to them. It had been quite an interesting few weeks.

He turned when he heard his name being called, and grinned when he saw Tino strolling across the dirt towards him.

“Verdict?” Tino asked, looking curious. Matthew sighed, and mimed deep anguish.

“Two months’ suspension, effective immediately.” He said. Tino grinned slightly.

“Not bad, considering that you shot someone in the face,” he said cheerily. Matthew nodded. “Still, I won't lie; I am going to mock you. You’ll be stuck here helping out with cleaning and cooking, while I’m going on badass missions. Suffer, Matthew, suffer. This is the price of murder.”

“You literally murder people every single day.” Matthew pointed out. Tino shrugged, grinning.

“Yes, but I have permission to do that, so the repercussions are zero.” Matthew rolled his eyes at him, and Tino cackled, before sobering a little. “Seriously though, that’s pretty good, considering the circumstances.” Matthew nodded.

“Yeah, they said that it was because I committed the crime ‘in pursuit of justice’ and I was ‘acting based on conscientious decisions designed to maintain the integrity of the rebel forces’ and that sort of bullshit. In short, they let me off easy because I was technically preventing a mass-murder by committing a single one.” Tino nodded.

“Fair enough.” He said. “You can’t ask for fairer than that. Besides, even if you are suspended, Yao will still find a way to involve you in shit. That’s what he always does.” Matthew nodded, grinning a little. It was such a relief that Yao was back. Octavia hadn’t been an awful leader, but it was still immensely comforting to know that he had regained his position. Yao acted as a father figure to countless people within the resistance, Matthew included, and he would have been devastated to lose such a good friend.

“How’s your side holding up?” Matthew inquired. During the scuffle with the prisoners, the huge one which Tino had taken down had managed to land a hit between his ribs. Tino had been bitter about it ever since.

He was still bitter about it, obviously, as he swore at Matthew, glaring at nothing in particular. Matthew understood his frustration. Tino was unbeatable at hand-to-hand combat. He acted as a mentor whenever he wasn’t working in the sniper division and had beaten just about everyone in their headquarters. He’d managed to take down people like Nelia, Ayshe and Ali, and they were among the most prized fighters in the whole resistance. The fact that a criminal had managed to land even a single hit was probably driving him insane. He politely listened to Tino rant about how he should have protected his side more, or been faster to take him down, before the sniper noticed the time, apologised and darted off to the medical ward. Yao had been looking over some sort of treatment, and, had it not been for his suspension, Matthew would have been going too.

He sighed, kicking at the dirt a little as he headed towards the kitchens. Their cook would likely have been told of his availability by this point. He didn’t doubt that he had already signed him on for several shifts a week. He tried to suppress a growl. He loathed suspension.

 _Better than being exiled or executed for treason, though_ , his mind reasoned. Rubbing at the slowly healing wound on his neck, he resigned himself to two months of boredom.

* * *

“So, over a long period of time, it could, hypothetically speaking, eliminate the disease from the body?” Yao inquired. Kabeeta nodded.

“Yes. My initial subjects have shown vast physical improvement over a period of one or more years.” She said. “The serum redirects the flow of the toxins in the blood, and enhances their attraction to keratin.”

Yao frowned. “How does that help the patient?”

“Well,” she began, “by increasing its attraction to the protein, it is drawn in greater quantities to areas of the body which are rich in keratin. Since the toxin isn’t known for pinpointing areas like the lining of organs or skin, it would instead target the hair and nails to a greater extent than the disease already does. In doing so, the serum eventually begins to expel the toxins at a greater rate than they can be formed. After several months, the growths start to break down their own structure to meet the demand.”

“So, after time it wears itself out and the body purges itself completely…” Yao shook his head a little, staring at her. “Kabeeta, you’re a genius” she smiled.

“Thank you, Yao, but I wouldn’t say _genius_. The original medication isn’t difficult or expensive to make at all, and it only took a few years of research for me to come across this solution.”

“Why don’t they popularise this?” he inquired. Kabeeta sighed.

“The corporations responsible for its marketing and distribution are the definition of greedy. They can leech money out of desperate people for a temporary solution. If they put out an actual cure, it could end their business. They’d rather watch thousands of people waste away and die than have that happen.”

Yao shook his head, disgusted, as Tino spoke up.

“Do you really think that he’d agree to this, though? It is experimental.”

“As I understand it, this young man has an aptitude for, and love of, risk. I think he’d at least be open to the idea.” Yao nodded as Kabeeta dug around in her cupboards, before locating a small vial of clear liquid. She handed it to him. “I would try to sway him, at least. This is a small sample of the medication if he wants proof.”

Yao nodded, taking the vial from her hand and gazing at it. “This whole idea seems a little wild if I’m being completely honest.” He confessed. Kabeeta nodded a little, though Ayshe, standing by Yao’s side, shrugged.

“Talent is talent. We have an opportunity here. If we don’t dive on it, we could lose it. you’d be surprised at how agreeable people can get when they want something.”

Yao nodded, sighing. “I suppose I can’t argue with that logic, Ayshe.” She smiled at him, and he slipped the small vial into his pocket. It really couldn’t hurt to try, he supposed.

They bid farewell to Kabeeta and left the tent, blinking momentarily in the blinding brightness of the day.

“I forgot to mention,” Ayshe said as they walked across the bare earth between the communications tents, “I like the shirt. Bold choice.” Yao smiled softly.

Information about his trial had inevitably spread around the resistance like wildfire. Among the most prominent details was Yao’s reasoning behind wearing long clothing. He had caught more people than he could count staring at his arms and neck as if trying to see beneath the fabric and spot any scarring. Considering that most people knew by now, he had relaxed his clothing rule. The shirt he wore today had no high collar, and he had pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. His gloves remained in place, but the vicious scarring and burns on his forearms were very visible. Numerous people had noticed them already. Some stared outright, unable to quell their shock and curiosity, whilst others had maintained a professional air and ignored them.

“It feels good to not be stiflingly hot for once.” He said honestly. “I haven’t worn anything so free since 4505.” Ayshe laughed a little.

“Very true! Do you remember the missions we used to do together?” Yao smiled.

“As if I could forget.” He said. “Like when we captured Merka Vandal from Reycass before the special operations squad had even arrived in the building?” Ayshe laughed.

“I remember that! They were all so furious at us! All that time spent bragging about how they were ‘elites’ and ‘highly trained’ and we ended up doing their job for them! The looks on their faces still make me laugh.” She smiled. “Oh! What about when Arshad and Mohammed got pinned down inside that half-collapsed warehouse? We were the only ones to volunteer to act as backup. The look on Arshad’s face, when you busted in with an axe…I swore he was ready to propose.” Yao laughed.

“Honestly, considering the tension of the situation, I might have accidentally gutted him if he’d done that.” Ayshe smiled, tipping her head back.

“Good memories.” She said wistfully. “I do sometimes wish you were still active in the field with me. I miss having you as my partner.” Yao smiled sadly.

“I miss it too, sometimes, though I know what I do now is technically more important.” He sighed. “I do miss the adrenaline rush, admittedly. Perhaps we should spar at some point – we can see if you’re still the superior fighter.”

“Please, you _know_ that I’ll just kick your ass again.” He looked over at her. Her head was tilted upwards so that the sun had caught her features. Her lips had curled up into a small, teasing smile, and several locks of her hair had come undone from her messy bun and were being gently tossed by the low wind. He felt a sense of peace and calm, the likes of which he hadn’t felt in years, consume him. He smiled back.

“I’ll just prepare myself to get demolished, then,” Yao said gently. Ayshe paused, turning her head to face him again, gaze unreadable. There was a beat of silence before Ayshe looked like she wanted to speak, and she placed her hand on his shoulder. The moment was broken, however, when Yao heard someone calling out for him. Ayshe’s hand dropped from his shoulder, and despite the heat of the day, he regretted the loss of its warmth.  He turned away reluctantly, to see Ines approaching them.

“Sorry to interrupt, General, Admiral. We retrieved the last of the group.” Yao nodded. Ayshe bid him farewell, murmuring something about a meeting, and he turned to follow Ines.

* * *

“You’re completely wrong, okay, bell peppers are awful.”

“Agree to disagree. They’re the foundation of a decent meal.”

Feliks rolled his eyes. Eduard and Antonio had been going back and forth for over an hour over the advantages and disadvantages of different ingredients. Their most recent clash centred around peppers, of all foods. Antonio, being from Jhobras, a planet whose main export was probably peppers, was vehemently defending the food. Eduard, who was from the cooler planet of Ellmin, was decidedly against them. The first few minutes of the debate had been interesting, but Feliks was now approaching the point where he was ready to throttle them both.

Their situation had improved immensely in the last two days. Their new cell was much more comfortable than the old one, and not just because the girls in their group finally had proper privacy like they deserved – it was much more spacious, and the bathroom helped. He’d been able to have his first shower in several weeks, and it had been a borderline religious experience. Alfred had apologised profusely to him and Gilbert – especially for fucking up Gilbert’s jaw, though. The albino had waved it off. Alfred himself had been light and cheerful since talking to his brother, and it was as though some lost part of him had come back. It was good to see him so happy.

His attention was caught when he noticed Tori enter their section of the cell. The five girls in their group had all taken the bunk beds down the far side of the cell and hadn’t come down this end of the room as much. Her expression looked frightened, torn. She met his gaze and gestured for him to go with her. Raising an eyebrow, he complied, pushing himself into a standing position and wandering after her. She was sitting on her bed when he pushed the small dividing curtain back. Hesitating slightly, he moved and sat next to her.

“What’s up?” he asked, even though he knew. Only Gilbert, Roderich, Tori and himself knew what was going on. Only they knew why it was so strange and confusing that the slender Fynknian boy had ended up being royalty. Feliks had a strong hunch but didn’t want to broach the matter in case he was wrong. As he sat next to Tori, though, he knew that she would be stressed no matter what he said.

“You know what’s up.” she murmured. “The whole thing with that Fynknian, Lukas.” Feliks nodded. He and the others were yet to explain to the rest of their group about the odd and confusing fact that Tori had somehow recognised a random rebel as someone she used to know. Knowing now that he was, in fact, royalty…well, there wasn’t a plethora of information as to why she would have associated him with her admittedly murky past. He could feel the words bursting to free themselves. He was dying to ask her a million questions about her childhood, about _who_ and _what_ and _where_ she remembered, but he wasn’t going to do such a thing while she was in such a frightened and confused state.

It just made _so_ _much_ _sense_.

They’d met Tori on Aralos, a distant and far-flung planet, far out of the way and minds of anyone with non-insidious intentions. Though in an industrial hub like Reycass, a rogue Daernic woman would have stood out, on a dustbowl like Aralos, no-one cared either way about someone’s species or ethnicity – they were more concerned about whether or not the person was planning to walk past calmly or shiv you in the gut. She was Daernic, that was much was evident from the dark brown hair and vivid green-gold eyes, as well as by her own admission. She had told him that she’d lived on Aralos for over ten years. She was also about 18 or so years old.

Even her name, Tori, sounded suspect. She had never told him about any surname. He wasn’t even sure if she knew what it was.

She matched the age, description and potentially even the name of one of the most wanted people in history. He knew that springing such a theory on her would be disastrous. Tori was already worried and seemed to be questioning her own identity. He didn’t want to add to her troubles.

He decided to start somewhere relatively safe. Feliks wanted to try and examine his theory without Tori knowing that he even had one.

“Well, you said that you remembered him, right? Do you know anything about _where_ or _when_ you remembered him?”

Tori sighed, sounding frustrated. “It’s hard to describe. I recognised his face, I guess, but the more I think about it, it feels more and more like I remembered the feeling of his presence more than I did his actual appearance.” She shook her head. “Sorry, that makes no sense.”

Feliks shook his head. “No, it does make sense. You mean that you remember his presence in your past, and you remember _him_ , but not necessarily his facial features. Like, he could have been in disguise, but you would still have recognised him because you remember _him_ , not his appearance.” Tori nodded, looking relieved that he hadn’t written her off as a mad person.

“Yes, that’s exactly it! It’s like…it’s like I’m really familiar with him, but I don’t remember how.”

“What part of your life would you have known him in, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Definitely before I lived on Aralos. I remember my whole life on Aralos very clearly. It’s the time before, back when I lived on Daerna, that’s all foggy.”

“Do you remember much of Daerna?”

She shook her head. “Not really, no. My earliest memory of Aralos was crawling out of a wrecked ship, so I could have amnesia from crashing or something. I only really remember a few flashes, a few phrases and maybe some faces. I know that I was evacuated during the Expansion, like so many other children and teenagers, but the whole journey is sort of a blur.” She sighed again. “I always thought that I travelled with a relative of some sort. A teenaged guy maybe 18 or so. I used to think he was my brother, but the older I get, the less I feel like that’s right.”

“Do you remember anything about him?” he asked.

“Sort of. He wore a symbol on all of his clothes.” Feliks rummaged around in his pockets, acquired a piece of paper and a pen, and gestured for her to draw it. Tori scrawled something which resembled an insignia of some sort, and she shrugged.

“It looked something like that.” She murmured. Feliks cast a look at the symbol, trying to ignore the odd feeling of familiarity which dogged him even now.

“You said you also remembered a few phrases.” He coaxed. She shrugged, still looking downcast.

“Only really a few. I remember an old parable, something like _‘_ _sąžiningumas, nuolankumas, vientisumas’_. It means ‘honesty, humility, integrity’ or something like that. It used to be told to all little children to encourage them to be good if I’m right. I also remember something about the _‘_ _Karo kambarys’_ , which I think means ‘war-room’, so I’m not sure why anyone would have been saying that.” She paused, obviously straining her memory. “Oh! I always remember hearing one word, over and over. _‘Vika, vika, vika!’_   I don’t understand that one either. I think it means ’victory’ or is a derivative of the word otherwise. I told you, none of it makes any sense.”

Feliks nodded, processing the information. “Yeah, that isn’t a totally logical set of memories to have, if I’ll be blunt. Still, keep working at it. We’ll figure it out eventually.” She nodded, smiling wearily.

“I hope so. I’m really glad that I have you here to help me with all of this.” She sighed as she laid her head on his shoulder. Blushing a little at her words, he wrapped his arm around her.

“I’m glad that I’m able to help.” He murmured. His brain was spinning so fast that it almost couldn’t keep up with itself.

 _vika, vika, vika_.

An odd Daernic word, like she’d said.

 _vika, vika, vika._ It meant something. His stomach was turning over.

A chant half-recalled from a day of invasion and fear, perhaps?

But that wasn’t it. He knew that it wasn’t. Unlike other planets, most Daernic names had a meaning which was easily translatable. Tori wasn’t lying; the word _‘vika’_ meant victory. He shifted his consideration of the word.

_vika, vika, vika…_

_Vika._

Not a chant. A nickname. A nickname for the girl resting her head on his shoulder. Vika was a nickname, just as surely as ‘Tori’ probably was. He could think of only one name which fitted both nicknames, and that was the one printed on the profile third from the top of the Index. He forced his thoughts elsewhere. Was it likely? Very much so, but he had promised himself that he wasn’t going to panic Tori any more. He forced his muscles to relax, leaning into the exhausted Daernic girl a little.

Her identity, he could think about later. For now, he was content to enjoy her presence, and the weight of her head on his shoulder.

* * *

_Szwicza District,_  
_Bibesti, Rela,_  
_1st Apryl_

“Are you sure that it would work, though?” Feliciano asked as Lovino paced backwards and forwards in front of him.

“Of course I’m not sure that it would work. But it’s one of the few options that we really have.” Lovino responded, frown deepening. “Something made us stand out when we were on Incanda. I know that it’s unlikely, but whoever recognised us there could potentially find us here.”

“I know, you’ve told me that about five times a day since we saw the change,” Feliciano said, sounding a little exasperated. “I know that there are talented mercenaries out there, and I know that the large bounty on us would inspire a lot of people to try and catch us,” he said, saying what Lovino had been lecturing him about for the past week or so. “But we also have an established life here. We didn’t just drop in here. We have proof that we’ve lived here for years.”

Lovino nodded. “Yeah, that’s true, but Feli, you really don’t understand. Some people are beyond ruthless, beyond committed, beyond relentless. Our combined bounty adds up to 100 billion marks. Do you have any idea how much money that is?”

Feliciano hesitated. “Uh......a lot?”

“Yes, it’s a lot,” Lovino said, rolling his eyes, “let me put it this way. This rundown, shitty apartment that we call home costs 1000 marks a month. That’s 12,000 marks every year. If we had that bounty, we’d have enough money to live here for over 8.3 million years.” Feliciano’s eyes opened wide, mouth mimicking the motion.

“……that is a lot.” He said, sounding a little awed. Lovino resisted the urge to roll his eyes again but smiled a little nonetheless.

“Yes, it’s a lot. That’s why so many people want it. The recent increase has already caught people’s attention.” He said, picking up the newspaper which he had salvaged from the table of a borderline catatonic merchant. He flicked through the pages until he stumbled upon the article which he had been seeking.

_“Interest has been peaked in financial and economic sectors of the_ _Joğarı Keñes_ _today after activity on the Index and ‘bounty’ information hubs spiked. The increased activity was determined to be due to an unexplained, 10-billion-mark increase in monetary bond, which was applied to each of the five – purportedly surviving – heirs of the Free Courts of Daerna. The changes, applied to the heirs of the royal positions and fortunes of the Vargas, Bondevik and Laurinaitis families respectively, were tendered early yesterday morning. It is unknown why the increase was approved, nor why the increase was tendered at this time. The update has resulted in approximately 61% more traffic to each of the five recipients…”_

He stopped reading, quirking an eyebrow at Feliciano. The article was over two weeks old, but Lovino had pored over it ever since he had acquired it. Vash and his odd acquaintances had been gone for almost the same amount of time, and he was no closer to understanding why exactly the Union had chosen now to make them more sought after. They definitely hadn’t caught any of the others – they would have gloated and paraded that fact endlessly if that were the case. There was something else, some other third factor at play. Lovino didn’t know what it was, but he was determined to figure it out.

Feliciano sighed. “The increase means that we need to blend in more, I know, Lovi.” Lovino nodded.

“Exactly. I hate to say it, but our days of pickpocketing and street-fighting are over.”

Feliciano frowned. “I never did either of those things.”

Lovino ignored him. _“Anyway_ ,” he said, “because we are now going to be in more danger than before, we need to blend in even more. We need to be unworthy of notice or attention. Though theft is an admittedly effective way of getting money when we need it, we’ll have to abandon it for now. It wouldn’t do us any good to get arrested.” Feliciano nodded, leaning back a little as he took over for his brother.

“So, to avoid crime and therefore avoid attention, we’ll need to get actual jobs.” Lovino heaved a great sigh. He’d never really had an actual job before – his quick wits and light fingers had always provided for them in the past.

“They aren’t likely to be fun, mind you,” he said, “they’ll be boring and manual and menial, but as long as they bring in money, we should manage okay. We’ve never been big spenders, so this shouldn’t be an issue.” Feliciano nodded as Lovino continued.

“And…since it is likely that we are in more danger now…I’ll start teaching you to use your gifts.” This was something which he hadn’t mentioned before, and Feliciano let out a verifiable shriek of delight upon hearing it, leaping to his feet.

“Really?!? You mean it, fratello?”

“Yes, I really mean it this time.” Feliciano crushed him in a hug, bouncing up and down out of sheer joy. Lovino couldn’t fight the smile rising to his face. He had been worried that Feliciano wouldn’t be able to execute a decent amount of control when using his gifts, but thinking on it more, he supposed that he far preferred the idea of Feliciano being uncontrollable and causing mass destruction over the idea of his younger brother being completely unable to defend himself.

“I’ll be extra careful when you’re teaching me, I promise.” He said, eyes gleaming with excitement. Lovino sighed, patting his brother’s head gently.

“I know you will. I trust you.”

* * *

_Resistance Headquarters,_  
_Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma_  
_1 st Apryl_

Matthias was just getting properly relaxed when the rebels visited their cell again. He’d been slumped against a wall playing a confusing and somewhat ludicrous card game with Feliks. The game – Lepinanya, he believed the name was – was Pyndaphian, and Feliks, with the occasional input from Arthur, had spent over an hour trying to explain the most basic of the rules to him. He’d felt close to giving up several times, especially since he’d been convinced that they were pulling his leg. As it turned out, though, the game was intentionally confusing. Even Feliks and Arthur, who had both grown up playing with their parents and could play like pros, didn’t understand why it was structured as it was.

“The professional players can earn millions a game.” Arthur had helpfully explained to him. “Though any old hand from Pyndaph could do that just as easily.” Matthias had blinked in confusion.

“Then why don’t Pyndaphians just take over the tables and get rich?” Arthur and Feliks grinned at each other.

“Banned. It is officially illegal for any Pyndaphian to play Lepinanya in a high-stakes game.”

“That sounds a little racist,” Matthias muttered. They both shrugged.

“Maybe, in a sense, but it is understandable why they do it,” Feliks said. “Once, when I was 14, I dyed my hair black and played a few rounds in a proper game. I won over 15,000 marks in about ten minutes. The casino didn’t discover I was Pyndaphian, but they banned me anyway. Said I would bankrupt them.” He grinned at the memory. Matthias shook his head in mild disbelief and continued trying to puzzle through what rules he remembered, scrutinising his cards.

“Is that Lepinanya?” a voice said from outside the cell. They turned. It was one of the rebels which they tended to see more often, a tall Jhobrasian woman with dark hair clipped into a neat bob who always wore long leather boots and was never seen without a tall, metal staff. Feliks nodded, and she shook her head in disbelief. “I’ve never understood that game. Whoever designed it must have been on some serious shit when they came up with it.”

Feliks nodded. “Yup. A mixture of cocaine, hallucinogens and alcohol, if the rumours are to be believed, anyway.” The woman shook her head at them.

“That makes it all the more impressive that you actually understand it,” she said, tone sincere. “But anyway, I’m not here to discuss Lepinanya. We have a visitor for you.”

They stared at her in complete befuddlement, before she stepped aside, gesturing for someone to come forward. They all let out cries of disbelief and joy when a familiar face appeared behind the bars, brow creased in worry.

“Ivan!” they all exclaimed, confusion replaced with joy. The next minute was a flurry of conversation as questions were thrown from one side to the other, neither questions nor answers very coherent. Gilbert took initiative and made them all quiet down, before turning and questioning their friend.

“What’s going on? How the hell did you get here?” Ivan grinned sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck as Nelia explained.

“This big guy got worried about you lot, so he tried to come through the mountain passes alone. Our friends in the Dolyagor caught ahold of him and sent word along to us. We went and picked both him and your ship up and brought them here.”

Matthias stared at Ivan. The guy was claustrophobic, _seriously_ claustrophobic, yet he had still tried to traverse those narrow, winding mountain paths to try and find them? He felt a sudden, huge surge of affection for the pale man.

“Serious kudos to you for attempting that alone,” Alfred said, “those paths were a nightmare.” Ivan nodded in agreement.

“Yes. Do not expect me to do it again.” He said, looking a little pale at the thought. Matthias grinned at him. Ivan frowned a little. “Are all of you alright? Fredka, what happened to your leg?” Alfred looked down at his leg at the mention of it, grinning wryly.

“I got stabbed, but don’t worry!” he rushed to say when Ivan’s face showed pure shock and concern. “It’s not infected, and I’ve been treated and everything. I’ll be fine, just gimme a bit of bed rest, you’ll see.” Ivan relaxed marginally.

“That is good. So, what has happened while I was with the ship? The rebel, Nelia, she did not tell me anything.”

Alfred happily launched into an explanation of their rescue mission gone wrong, including their near-execution and smuggling into an abandoned shipping container. He happily gave details on their scuffle with their saviours, and how he had reunited with his brother. Ivan beamed upon hearing this part of the story.

“Oh yes! I met a rebel who looked a lot like you, Fredka. He was very friendly!” he said happily. Alfred grinned.

“Yep, that’d be Matthew.” He said, sounding giddy at even being able to say his brother’s name. Ivan frowned a little as Alfred continued through the story.

“I do not understand,” he said, “if you have paid the bounty for our friends, and this leader is back in power, why have you not been let go?” Matthias almost threw himself across the room to smack his hand across Alfred’s mouth. Ivan blinked, looking a little taken aback.

“You, see, Ivan,” Matthias said, glaring at Alfred and the others, warning them to be silent, “we found out a little secret of the resistance’s. Because we know that secret now, they won’t let us go, out of fear that we’d go to the Union. If we told you what it was, they’d lock you in here with us.” he looked at him apologetically. “I’d prefer if at least one of my friends isn’t locked up for no good reason.” Ivan nodded slowly.

“I understand, thank you, Matthias. I do wish you all could be let out, though.” He said, sounding mournful. Matthias smiled sadly at him.

“Sorry buddy, but I don’t want to drag anyone else into this mess.” Ivan nodded in understanding.

“Okay then,” he said, “I will not ask what this secret is. I will stay here at the resistance though, until they let you go, at least.” Matthias felt even more affection surge up through him.

“Thanks, man. It’ll be good to have you around.”

Ivan ended up sitting down against the bars, asking for more details on their many interesting exploits while he had been separated from them. He listened and told them about some of the more interesting news stories he had heard, sitting for hours by their cell. He ultimately stayed until their last, and arguably most important, visitor showed up.

* * *

They were all sorry to see Ivan get escorted away by the Jhobrasian guard – Nelia, by her and Ivan’s admissions. They had spent hours talking to him, and Francis could see that the sky had started to darken. The day was coming to an end, and he almost sighed in relief. Daylight was a chaotic, tumultuous time. Where he had once feared sleep, and the dreams which accompanied it, he welcomed it.

Sleep removed him from the emotions warring against each other in his mind. Half of him was wrought with anger and indignation – the sting of being distrusted and dismissed. The other half was pouring with forgiveness and concern. And at the centre of his conflicted mind was the one person who he had once sworn to never give the time of day to again. He had tried and tried again, but once more, Arthur Kirkland occupied the brunt of his thoughts.

He finally knew what Arthur’s mindset had been, those years ago, when he had chosen to commit himself to a workforce that was evil in its very nature. Francis knew now why he had done it, and he understood that fear, the desperation which no doubt drove him to do it. But Arthur remained ignorant of why Francis had acted in the ways that he had. A part of Francis wished that he could just be brave enough to bear his soul to the person who had once been his closest friend. But the rest of him knew that he would never be able to do that, not really. His scars ran too deep, entrenched in his consciousness as they were. He couldn’t offer forgiveness as freely as a small part of him wished he could.

Francis sighed, shaking his head a little. He had tried to maintain distance from the pirate, but the usual anger and red haze of fury which normally accompanied any sight or mention of Kirkland had vanished. He simply didn’t have the energy – nor the irrefutable motive – to hate him so passionately anymore. He cursed Arthur for performing a betrayal which he didn’t even know was one. He cursed the universe for throwing their lots together in the first place. And he cursed Hamide Boushab, who had stripped away that certain capacity for forgiveness, who had twisted him into what she wanted him to be, who had removed the very human he was and reconstructed him from the inside out.

Forcing back bile as memories surged up again, he turned his attention outwards. He focused on the walls, his friends’ soft conversation, the mauve of the sky outside.

After escorting Ivan away, the woman, Nelia, had returned to the front of their cell. She was still and silent. Wary as she hadn’t been before. She was anticipating something.

Evidently, whatever she was expecting arrived, as she suddenly straightened up and turned to them.

“Listen up,” she said, voice authoritative but not overly loud, “you have another visitor. Unfortunately for you, he’s not another lost friend. Just be quiet and listen to what he says.” She said, gaze warning. Francis and the others had only a few brief seconds after her words before she moved to the side, withdrew a large ring of keys from her pocket and opened the door, letting in a man before re-locking the door and walking away.

Francis observed him. The first thing he noticed was his height. They were all sitting down, so the visitor loomed over them all. He was, by Francis’ approximation, maybe 5’10’’, and, to mild shock on Francis’ part, clearly Yanish. He had very long black hair adorned with a few streaks of white, which had been braided down his back. Francis was surprised to see that he was actually quite attractive. His clothing was an oddly fitting monochrome; dark pants, black boots and a simple, long-sleeved grey shirt which had been rolled up to the elbows. His hands were concealed inside a pair of dark leather gloves buttoned at the wrist. The exposed parts of his arms and neck were covered in scars.

Francis raised his gaze up to his eyes and felt dread creep over him. He had noticed, with a passing glance, that the man had dark brown eyes. They were neither the warm, welcoming brown of chocolate or the sturdy, comforting shade of timber. His eyes were the colour of winter soil, dark and hard and unyielding. Francis felt discomfort creep through his bones. Though the newcomer was clearly unarmed, Francis didn’t doubt that he wouldn’t require a weapon to overpower them. There was silence for a moment as the man folded his arms, calculating, analytical gaze surveying them all. Francis saw his gaze catch, and linger, on Arthur before moving on.

The man broke a little of the tension by moving to sit on an overturned crate, lowering himself to their level. It wasn’t much, but it made Francis relax a bit. He stretched his legs out in front of him and finally spoke.

“Good evening to all of you,” he said, voice deeper than Francis had expected it to be, “I hope that you’ve been treated well.”

“Decently enough,” Feliks spoke up. “Save the near-execution, of course.” The man winced a little, smiling wryly.

“Ahh, yes, I heard about that. The woman that ordered that, well, she was only trying to do what she thought was best for the resistance, even if it wasn’t the most moral.” Feliks raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak again. “Anyway,” their visitor continued, “you are all safe and relatively unharmed,” his eyes skimmed over Alfred’s bandaged thigh as he said the words, “so I hope you will not hold a grudge.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Matthias said, “listen, is there any chance that we’ll be allowed out of here? We haven’t done anything.”

“I know you haven’t, but unfortunately for you, you’re a little too observant for your own good. I am fully aware of the fact that the lot of you have done nothing to harm the resistance, and that you are all, one way or the other, here due to the audacity of our own soldiers. I wish I could set you free. You paid the ransom for your friends, fair and square, and you have acted reasonably since then. You were taken captive by us for no discernible reason, and I’m sorry for that.” He hesitated.

“ _But_ , you are now privy to the most valuable secret that the resistance currently has. You are bounty hunters and criminals. I don’t mean to assume that you would all be terribly fond of the Union, but the fact remains that young Lukas is worth 55 billion marks. Everyone, no matter their occupation or allegiance, would be tempted by that sort of money. There is a large possibility that none of you would be interested in that reward, but I don’t know you, nor your motivations, so I am not willing to take that sort of risk.” He said. They all slumped back in defeat.

“So, what, we’re going to be trapped here forever?” Antonio asked.

“I wouldn’t say forever. We will attempt to make some sort of compromise. The importance of keeping Lukas safe is paramount to us, though he justifiably may represent little more than a fine reward for all of you. For now, though, you will be kept here.”

“This is bullshit,” Matthias muttered. “Let us talk to your leader. Everyone we’ve talked to so far says he’s reasonable.” The man raised an eyebrow.

“I do hate to disappoint you, though I do try to be logical and reasonable most of the time, I’m not so sympathetic of you that I would let you go.” They all blinked, confused, for a moment, before the Yanish man smiled and leaned forward, taking Matthias’ hand and shaking it. “Yes, that meant what you thought it meant. I’m the leader of the resistance. Yao, if you must.” He leaned back as they gawked at him.

Natalya tossed her head, trying and failing to look unimpressed. “Okay then. That may be true, but you just gave a group of criminals your identity. Very smart.”

Yao smiled. “Are you going to report me? Good luck with that. What would you say? ‘The leader of the resistance is Yanish, and his name is Yao’,” he rolled his eyes. “The Union has known I’m Yanish for years. Do you have any idea how many Yanish people are there in the Universe?” Natalya was silent. “over 96 _billion_. There are 90 billion people on Yan itself and roughly 6 billion expatriates. I don’t think that the Union would bother vetting every single one. Not to mention, the name Yao is not exactly rare. I’d wager that there are at least, oh, 79 million other people with the same name as me.” He cocked his head to the side a little. “So good luck. The Union wouldn’t thank you for that information.”

Natalya cowered a little. In a moment, Yao’s gaze had gone from apologetic and unperturbed to sharp, analytical and cold. Francis recalled something which he had heard a street vendor say once;

_“The Union should give up trying to uproot the resistance, in my opinion. They’re like a hydra; if you cut off one head, two more grow back. Whoever leads the whole thing doesn’t seem to understand the idea of relenting.”_

Looking into Yao’s face now, Francis didn’t see an apologetic Yanish man. He saw a vicious, coiled snake, preparing to strike. His gaze was the gaze of a man who would not relent. A chill ran down his spine. He wasn’t lying. The leader of the entire resistance was right there in their cell, and he was far more ready to dismiss them as useless pawns than the others may have realised. _We’re only still alive because of his good will,_ Francis realised.

“Why are you here? Is that all you came here to say?” Francis asked, desperate to divert the conversation. Some of the coldness in the man’s eyes died down, and he turned his gaze on Arthur.

“It isn’t, actually. Thank you for reminding me.” Francis drew away a little as Yao made eye contact with the disgruntled pirate. There was a moment of complete silence. “Mr Kirkland, as far as I have been informed, you’re dying.” Arthur stiffened a little but smiled wryly.

“You’re not wrong.” He conceded. Yao leaned back a little, surveying him.

“Chalydrantis is a vicious disease. As I understand it, you’re only alive for the compassion of my subordinates.” Arthur nodded slowly, looking confused.

“Yes…that is true. I never got the chance to thank them for that.” Yao shifted a little.

“I’ll pass it on,” he said, “how long exactly have you suffered from it?” Arthur frowned a little, clearly not happy sharing such information with a virtual stranger, but, to Francis’ surprise, he answered anyway.

“Almost five years now.” He said. Yao nodded.

“Impressive. Though I would assume you have used Malthecs to treat it for most, if not all, of the time?” Arthur nodded. “That’s a shame. Malthecs tends to start to fail after about five and a half years of usage.” Arthur stiffened.

“I’ve heard that, yes.” He admitted. Yao hummed softly, looking at him for a moment before he rummaged around in his pockets and withdrew a small vial of clear liquid.

“I’ll be honest with you, if Chalydrantis was going to be cured, it would be available already. Malthecs itself isn’t a difficult solution to create. Most firms inflate the price by up to 7000%. Any amateur chemist could create enough to keep a Chalydrantis patient alive for a year. It’s a simple fact that whenever someone makes a breakthrough in terms of an immediate cure, it is dismissed as ‘hokey science’. There are far better and more effective ways to treat, and even heal, Chalydrantis. Those methods would never be used by those firms, though, because they would lose all of their customers.”

“However,” he continued, “not all of that research and progress has been stamped out. Our primary medic here is an incredibly capable woman named Kabeeta. She used to work in such a firm, researching Chalydrantis. After finding that her research was going to be destroyed for actually making progress, she left and took all of her notes with her.” He held up the vial. “This is the result. It’s a tricky little dose to create, but it’s effective, though admittedly in a different way to Malthecs.”

Arthur, despite himself, looked very intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Chalydrantis toxins are naturally attracted to keratin. This solution increases that attraction by a great amount. It might not seem like a good thing, but this little solution forces the toxins out of the body via the hair and nails, rather than just stopping their production inside the body. It works at such a rate that the growths which create said toxins would eventually tire itself out, and attack its own structure in order to meet the demands.”

Arthur was staring at the vial, stunned. “So…wait……you mean…”

“After a while, those pesky growths, like the one inside your brain, would start to decrease in size. Perhaps, if taken for long enough, it could eliminate the disease entirely. It’s experimental, but results so far are very promising.” Yao’s eyes were glittering, and he stowed the vial back in his pocket. Arthur’s eyes followed it.

“What…what do you want from me?” he asked, voice croaking. Yao stood from the box, dusting himself off a little.

“What do I want? Well, Mr Kirkland, you are rather infamous. Your escapades have captured the attention and imaginations of billions of people. A criminal though you may be, you are a talented one. You can enter buildings boasted as impenetrable. You can avoid being seen in areas wrought with security cameras and steal things under heavy guard without trouble. Many dismiss you as a lucky crook, but it is undeniable that, at least in your field, you excel.”

Arthur was still staring at him. Yao smiled a little, moving forward to crouch in front of him so that their eyes were level.

“What I want, Mr Kirkland, is to make a deal.”

 

-  
FIN  
-


End file.
